


An Invincible Summer

by baramzina



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force-Sensitive Reader, Padawan!Ben Solo, Princess!Reader, Slow Burn, but also lovers to enemies, hella fluff, lots of exchanged snark, lots of flashbacks, there will be pining both mutual and unrequited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baramzina/pseuds/baramzina
Summary: You'd loved him, once, when he was a young padawan and you were a princess.  But you'd loved Ben Solo -- you're not sure if you can say the same for Kylo Ren.Unfortunately, love is rarely a factor when it comes to arranged marriages.(In which Kylo Ren has more in common with his grandfather than he thought.)





	1. in the midst of winter

**Author's Note:**

> this is an overused plotline/trope but I LOVE IT and I hope I can put my own twist on it. this is also inspired by some drabbles on tumblr by whirlybirbs revolving around padawan!ben solo and princess/senator!reader.
> 
> I also have no idea where this falls in terms of timeline but I'll figure it out eventually.

You’d known him once, years ago, under a different sun.  You were only fifteen and he was seventeen, you the princess of New Alderaan and he still but a padawan.  You were young, but it had felt real — the long looks, the brief touches, the quiet whispers, the fleeting glances.  It had been your first foray into romance, and the fact that it was forbidden had made it that much more enticing.  It wouldn’t last and the feelings would begin to dissipate as soon as he was done with his assignment and no longer one room away from you, your friend had told you, but at the time you’d believed you would be the exception.

It was innocent enough: teasing comments and lingering brushes, chaste kisses unseen around the corner, late night conversations about your future in hushed voices.  Your friend always gave you a warning look when she caught the two of you alone together, but you’d thought everyone else was none the wiser (the look from Master Luke at the end of the assignment let you know that you were very much wrong).  Maybe it wouldn’t last forever, but you truly, earnestly believed it could.

(Hadn’t there been a story about a Jedi who fell in love with a queen?)

That had been years ago, though; you’re no longer that innocent, naive princess who spent her days laying in the sun and hiding in the libraries.  You succeeded your mother’s throne, becoming Queen of New Alderaan, undertaking all the duties required of your title.  Duties that don’t really allow you to daydream about stolen kisses and romantic yearning and forbidden love.

Though, as he stands before you now, cloaked in black and concealed behind a helmet (you wonder if his eyes are as soft as you remember them, or if they’ve become as hard and guarded as the rest of him), you think there isn’t much to daydream about anyway.

To be honest, it’s feeling like more of a nightmare.

You press your lips together into a fine line, trying to keep the grimace off your face.  It’d be unbecoming for a queen to show disgust towards her visitors — no matter that they came uninvited.  “This is a surprise,” you say, your voice neutral.

Kylo Ren’s breath is a harsh sound, heavy and mechanical, like some sort of statement that he’s more than human.

“Is it?” he answers, just as vaguely.

You almost roll your eyes.  “I can’t say I’ve been expecting a visit from the First Order.”  It’s strange, talking to this man in a mask.  He’s hard to read, with his perpetually hunched shoulders and clenched fists.  You remember how Ben Solo’s hands used to shake when he held your waist.  “Sending _Kylo Ren_ to deal with a planet like New Alderaan seems like overkill.”

Your bodyguard inhales sharply through her nose, which is usually her way of telling you, “That wasn’t very queen-ly.”  Fi has been with you since you were both children; you were friends long before you became queen, and she was the one who was always reminding you to keep your head on your shoulders during your summertime trysts with the young padawan.  She’d served your mother for a couple of years before you became Queen, so she’s no newcomer to diplomacy.

“What I mean is,” you correct yourself, forcing a smile, “certainly someone of your rank and skill is needed elsewhere.  New Alderaan is a peaceful planet.  Which makes me… uncertain of your intentions.”

He scoffs at you, and your jaw clenches in anger.  “Even if that’s the case, for some reason, Supreme Leader Snoke is interested in your _peaceful planet_.”

You swallow thickly as you keep your hands clasped in front of you.  Now’s not the time to show any sort of weakness or hesitance.  “I’m honored,” you say.

“Then you won’t mind having a few rooms prepared for us.”

You can feel Fi’s eyes boring into the back of your head.  As much as you and your mother have done to keep New Alderaan out of the prying claws of the First Order, you know what this means.  Whatever “interest” Snoke has in your planet, it’s no request — it’s a demand.  You have a military, of course, but it’s no match for the First Order’s stormtroopers, and your first priority as Queen is to keep your people safe.

So you pull your shoulders back and raise your chin, holding yourself up high and tall, refusing to shrink back from the masked shadow standing before you.  “Not at all.  It would be my pleasure.”  You turn to face Fi, who’s had a hand on her blaster the moment the ship broke through the atmosphere.  “Fi, would you pass that along to Cora, please?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker over to Kylo and the troopers beside him, before turning to you with concern.  “Your Highness…”

You smile encouragingly at her, giving her wrist a light squeeze.  “I’ll be fine, Fi.  Besides.”  You glance at Kylo, who hasn’t moved from his spot.  “If these are my guests, I should be the one giving a tour of the palace, shouldn’t I?”

“Your _Highness_ ,” she insists, stronger this time.

“Fi will take you to your rooms,” you say, addressing the troopers.  They look at Kylo Ren, as though uncertain, in a way that’s very similar to the way that Fi is looking at you right now.  Your smile broadens when he raises his hand to dismiss the stormtroopers, who (unsurely) follow (a very unsure) Fi down the hallway to the guest quarters.  “Well.  How about that tour?”

You descend the stairs to the throne, walking past Kylo Ren, the long train of your dress trailing behind you.  For a moment you think he’s actually going to just stand there for the rest of his stay, but soon you hear the click of his boots against the tile, and you feel his presence beside you as you walk towards the gardens.  “New Alderaan is still relatively young,” you say, your hands clasped in front of you.  “We lack a strong military and diplomatic presence, so I can’t say we offer much to the New Republic.  Or to the First Order.”

“You discredit yourself, Princess.”

You come to an abrupt stop, turning on Kylo Ren with fury in your eyes and your lips curled downwards.  You can almost see the amused sneer behind his mask.  “Queen,” you correct him.  “It’s Queen now.”  Your cool facade cracked; you realize, in his smug silence, that that’s exactly what he intended for.  You take in a long, steady breath, inwardly berating yourself for giving in that easily.  “It’s been Queen for a long time now.”

“Of course, _Queen_ **(F/N)** ,” he says, with no respect attached to your title.  “My mistake.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.  “We all make them, don’t we, Commander?” You allow for a pregnant pause that causes Kylo shift uncomfortably under your gaze, and the corners of your eyes crinkle in amusement.  “As I was saying, New Alderaan is still a young planet, and our palace is small, so we may not have much to offer militarily or diplomatically, but we’re proud of what we have.”  

You lead him to the largest part of the palace: the grand library, which is empty save for a couple scholars buried in their research.  “This is my favorite part of the castle,” you say, as your fingers skim along the backs of biographies and encyclopedias.

For a moment, you forget about the looming figure behind you, as you turn in to admire a new collection your scholars compiled for your library.  The genuine smile that curls on your lips slips when he says, “I know.”

“Ah,” you say, the bitterness creeping into your smile, “so it’s true.”  You look at him, truly look at him, and you hate his helmet and his black robes and the crude lightsaber hanging from his waist.  Everything about him is harsh and unkind, so unlike your memories of him (or who he used to be).  “I never thought this was how we’d be reunited, Ben Solo.”

His entire body seems to shudder at the use of his (former) name.  “Don’t,” he says.

“Oh, my mistake.  You go by Commander Ren now, isn’t it?  Or do you prefer Jedi Killer?”

You can’t help the quiet gasp that escapes you when suddenly your back is up against the shelves, his arms on either side of you, caging you in.  The surprise is quickly swapped out with indignance and a proud tilt of your chin.  Apparently, it doesn’t take much for him to crack, either.  “Don’t,” he repeats himself, but there’s something much more dangerous in his voice.

You crane your neck back to look at him, (for a brief moment you remember the last time you two were in this position, in this library, under very different circumstances) and you bear that graceful smile your mother taught you.  “Commander Ren it is.”

Out of your peripherals, you can see his fingers twitching.  You’ve heard the rumors about his infamous temper, so you’re a bit surprised by his self-control.  (You remember that Ben was very impatient, always hard on himself when he didn’t learn or catch onto something immediately.  Impatient, but never cruel.  Or maybe the cruelty was always there, and the rose-tinted lenses you saw him through filtered it out.)

“Is there something else, Commander?” you ask.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move except to lean in towards you.  You feel a prick at the back of your mind, and your brow furrows from the tingling sensation.  You set your jaw stubbornly as you push back, refusing his attempted intrusion into your thoughts.

Finally, Kylo pulls back, and from the way he’s standing, he looks smug.  “Not at all, Your Highness,” he says.

You narrow your eyes at him, clenching your jaw, tense despite the alleviated pressure on your mind.  You’d forgotten how irritating (and prying) the Force could be.  You’ve always been sensitive to the Force, but you also know you wouldn’t be able to withstand a mental attack if he _really_ wanted to probe your mind — and that, along with the fact that he most certainly knows this, irritates you the most.  Apparently a smarmy attitude came with the all-black wardrobe.

“Shall we continue with our tour, then?” you offer.

“After you, Your _Majesty_.”

He’s mocking you now, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction.  The corners of your eyes crinkle from your forced smile; when you place a hand on his arm, his skin jumps under your touch, and your chest swells with (petty) pride, and your smile widens into a grin.  “Or maybe a tour is unneeded, if your memory serves you well.”

Kylo swallows thickly, and you can’t help but feel satisfaction at the break in his composure.  There’s a moment of silence, when you can tell he’s actively trying to figure out how to respond to you.  Maybe he’d come here hoping you’d forgotten about your summers in the capital together, that you wouldn’t recognize him, that Ben Solo was as dead to you as he was to him.

“Don’t,” he says again, but it’s much softer this time, like a plea.  Something akin to pity, or maybe longing or nostalgia or concern, sparks in the pit of your stomach.  Or maybe he’s in there, somewhere, underneath the mask and the robes and the shell he’s constructed around himself.  He wraps his fingers around yours, and for a second your heart jolts — until he pushes you away roughly, causing you to retract your hand.  He says nothing more, bringing an end to whatever game it is you two were playing.

You stifle whatever disappointment tries to creep up your throat, more upset with the fact that you’re _feeling_ any sort of disappointment than anything.

You smile, but it’s nothing more than the cordial queen’s smile you’ve been practicing since you were a little girl.  “I’ll check with Cora to make sure your rooms are ready, Commander.  If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.  I want to make sure you’re comfortable during your stay.”  He makes a sound, like there’s something he wants to say, but you’ve already turned on your heel.

There will be time to trifle with Kylo Ren later, but for now you must prepare.

* * *

 

_“I don’t need a bodyguard,”_ _you insist, your arms folded across your chest in a show of stubbornness.  “I have Fi.”  You turn to your best friend, who looks up from admiring her new blaster with wide, curious eyes.  Your mother looks like she wants to roll her eyes, and you pout.  “I don’t need a bodyguard.”_

_“If you are to be Queen, being accompanied by a bodyguard is something you’ll have to get used to,_ **_(Y/N)_** _,” she says.  “And unless something has changed in the last few months, Fi is in a program to serve as the Queen’s personal bodyguard.  You are not Queen, yet, which means you will, in fact, need a bodyguard.”_

_“Mother_ —”

_“_ **_(Y/N)_ ** _.”_

_You press your lips together in indignance, but she doesn’t budge._

_“We may be in a time of peace now, but it won’t be like this forever.  Something is stirring in the galaxy.”  The solemn tone of her voice and the hardness in her eyes goes unnoticed as you pick at a loose thread at the hem of your gown.  She exchanges a look with Fi, who shrugs and smiles sympathetically, and she sighs.  “I’d rather be prepared,_ **_(Y/N)_** _, and I’d very much appreciate it if you did not insult our guests.”_

_Your head snaps up at that.  “They’re here!?”_

_“They should be, or at least close.”_

_“Mother_ — _”_

_“_ **_(Y/N)_ ** _.”_

_“Your Highness?”  Fi all but yanks you up onto your feet (though you stumble a bit on your dress, and a boyish snicker tells you it did not go unnoticed), while your mother gracefully turns around to face the newcomers._

_“Master Luke,” she greets him, as he steps forward to take her hand in both of his.  So this is the legendary Luke Skywalker, the hero of the old Rebellion.  “And…”_

_Standing next to him is a tall, lanky teen, with long limbs and an unconfident hunch of his shoulders.  He’s staring at the ground, his arms folded across his chest, and Luke nudges him as he smiles apologetically at your mother.  “And this is my nephew, Ben.  He’s a padawan.”_

_“So he’s not even a full-fledged Jedi yet?” you say._

_Your mother turns on you sharply, causing you to jump.  “_ **_(Y/N)_ ** _,” she hisses, in a way that tells you you’re going to be in a lot of trouble later._

_Master Luke looks understanding, though his nephew looks even more disgruntled now.  (Your etiquette instructor has made more than a few comments about your inability to keep your thoughts to yourself.)  “He’s not,” Luke confirms, “but he’s well on his way to becoming one, aren’t you, Ben?”  Ben merely grunts in reply, and you manage to resist the urge to snort.  Is this the guy who’s going to be your bodyguard?  Unimpressive.  “You’ll be safe with him.”_

_“Safe from all the visiting senators and diplomats and gifts and requests for my hand in marriage?” you mutter.  “Great.”_

_Your mother inhales sharply, finally losing her composure as she pinches the bridge of her nose.  “Please excuse the princess,” she says.  “She gets grumpy when she hasn’t had her morning dessert.”_

_“Hey_ — _!”_

_“We are_ so _grateful to have you here,” she goes on, completely ignoring you, and you see the way the padawan’s lips curl in amusement, “truly.”_

_“We’re happy to help, Your Highness,” Luke says.  “Aren’t we, Ben?”_

_He conspicuously knocks his boot against his nephew’s (which you can’t help but laugh at, and which draws a short glare from Ben), until he raises his eyes to meet yours.  “Of course,” he says, and it’s the first time you hear his voice, “Princess.”_


	2. a thin red thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you really call it a proposal if you don't have a choice?

Fi paces nervously, her hand on her blaster, while your handmaid secures the dress you’re going to be wearing to dinner.  Outwardly you appear calm, one hand folded over the other, your back straight, your face completely neutral — but honestly, you feel like you’re going to throw up.  Your heart is throbbing in your chest, making it hard to breathe, and you haven’t been able to form a coherent thought for the past hour.  Everything is spinning and your palms are sweating and even Fi, the calmest and most put together person you know, can’t sit still.  Nothing you’ve done up to this point could have prepared you for this.

You adjust the plunging neckline and the sleeves of your dress before tying the sash in front, and your handmaid motions for you to have a seat at the vanity.  She starts to twist your hair into an elaborate plait, and Fi catches your eyes in the mirror.

“What are we going to do?” Fi asks.

In about forty-five minutes, you’re scheduled to have dinner with the senators of New Alderaan and representatives of the First Order.  An official dinner was requested (that is, demanded) by the Supreme Leader himself, so while you’re obliging, you know you never really had a say in the matter.  Typically, you’d love to have an excuse to throw a dinner party and pull out a fancy dress; this, however, is something else entirely.

You’re certain this dinner is Snoke’s way of formally announcing he’s going to blow up your planet, or something else just as awful.  Everyone’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping it cool since the First Order showed up unannounced yesterday, but tension is thick and the atmosphere has been stifling.  It barely feels like your home.

“It’s been weeks since we’ve heard from the Resistance,” Aeri says quietly, as she winds flowers into your braids.

You sigh.  “Who knows where they are?  Even if we had a location, there’s no way we’d be able to get a messenger out of here without being noticed.  I’m sure we’re being watched.”  While the higher-ranking officials are staying in rooms in the palace, you learned that there are also hundreds of troops in the spacecraft outside.  Whatever this really it is, it’s far more than just Snoke’s “interest” that brought them here.  “We’re on our own, for now.”

Your involvement with the Resistance began with your mother, who quietly supported General Organa when she first founded the military force.  You inherited her concern and distrust of the First Order, but upon becoming Queen, you understood why she could not outright forge an alliance with the Resistance.  The safety of your people has always and will always be your first priority, and with the way the First Order has grown in past years, you know New Alderaan would not be able to withstand any kind of attack.

“We’re not prepared for an invasion,” Fi says from behind you.

This startles Aeri.  “An invasion?”

“What else could this be?” she answers with a scoff.  “Why else would the First Order be interested in New Alderaan at all?  Our military force is still weak and we’re hardly rich in rare resources.  What do we have to offer them that the Hosnian system doesn’t have?  Or Kuat or Eufornis?”

“Or maybe they’re looking for a new base,” Aeri says.  “And we were the ideal target because of our lack of a military presence.”  Though she continues to work quickly, you can tell her fingers are shaking as they comb through your hair.  “Or…  You don’t think they know about our involvement with the Resistance, do you?”  She lowers her voice, afraid of any curious ears.  “Maybe…  Perhaps they’re here—”

“Let’s stop the speculation for now,” you say.  You reach back and take one of Aeri’s hands in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you smile at her in the mirror.  “For now, we’ll just have to wait and see.  Until then, we’ll stay vigilant.”

Fi grins.  “A very queen-like answer,” she says teasingly.

You chortle.  “I like to think I can be queen-like every now and then.”

Aeri finishes your plait with with gold string, then completes your look with a light dusting of shimmering gold eyeshadow and a neutral lip.  Once everything is complete, you stand up to smooth out your dress and straighten yourself up, and take in a deep, steadying breath.  Part of you wonders if this intrusion has anything to do with your past relationship, both diplomatically and personally, with the Jedi.  If Snoke came here at Kylo Ren’s suggestion or if it truly was out of the Supreme Leader’s interest.

But that would be ridiculous, and it’s way too self-centered to be true.  Besides, he’d greeted you as a stranger, and he’d seemed upset that you hadn’t done the same.

Fi comes to stand next to you, and she has one eyebrow quirked.  Aeri is another room now, so it’s just the two of you standing in front of the vanity.  “What are you thinking about?”she asks.

You give her a deadpan look at the accusatory tone in her voice.  “What do you think I’m thinking about, Fi?”

The corner of her lips quirks upwards into an amused smirk.  “We both know the answer to that, Your Highness.”

You turn to her, your hands planted firmly on your hips, and you give her the firmest glare you can muster.  “Don’t.  I know you’ve been wanting to say something for the past twenty-four hours, but don’t.  I swear it.  I’ll replace you with Ellora, I don’t care that she’s barely learned how to aim with her blaster.”

Fi holds her hands up in surrender (though the smarmy grin she’s wearing tells you she’s far from surrendering on this topic), shrugging.  “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

You’re still glaring when you announce, “I’m going to check on the preparations for dinner.”  You can hear her snickering even when the door closes shut behind you.  The last thing you need is your bodyguard forcing you to relive your teenage summer romance while under the very real threat of a First Order invasion.

When you arrive to the dining room, you find Cora running around frantically, pointing to the best silverware and plates, shouting about the wrong napkins and glasses.  While she and the other servants fly past each other, trying to make everything perfect, you slowly back out.   _“Things seem to be fine,”_ you think, carefully closing the doors as to not make a sound and distract them.   _“I’ll just leave them to it.”_ You continue to slowly back up — until your back hits a firm chest.  Yelping, you whirl around, instinctively pushing back; Kylo barely takes a step back, more from reflex than from your (lack of) strength, and he snorts in amusement at the blush creeping up your neck.

“Sneaking away?” he asks.

“Checking on dinner.  It’s fine.”  Despite the helmet, his gaze feels heavy, and you can’t help but feel like his eyes are boring into your skin, _looking_ at you.  Clearing your throat, you fold your arms across your chest.  “Are you trying to sneak in? Food’s not ready yet.”

“I’m patrolling.”

“Patrolling,” you echo.  “See anything suspicious, Commander?”

“Just one thing.”

You actually laugh, and when you realize how genuine it was, you place a hand over your mouth and force a frown in its place.  “Well,” you say, trying to keep your voice even, “everything should be ready in about fifteen minutes.  I’ll go pass time in the gardens, I think.”

“I’ll accompany you.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.  “Oh.  Um, you don’t have—”

“I insist, _Your Highness_.”  You know now that it’s not a request or a suggestion, and that whether or not you want it, you now have company for your afternoon stroll.

You don’t even bother to try to suppress your sigh.  “Fine.”  The sun is just starting to start her descent, casting a pink and orange glow across the gardens.  It’s a lovely sight, one that you usually enjoy and appreciate, but today you find yourself unable to focus on anything aside from the looming figure beside you.  Ben had always been taller than you (a fact he reveled in and frequently reminded you of), but he seems so much _bigger_ now.  Maybe it’s the all-black robes, or the twenty pound helmet, or maybe it’s the lightsaber hanging dangerously against his waist.  You realize you’d felt safer with Ben as a padawan than you do with Kylo as a Knight of Ren.

“You used to ‘get lost’ here,” Kylo says.  You look up at him, startled that he’d said anything at all.  “In the gardens.  You’d ‘get lost’ to avoid diplomatic dinners and get out of meeting other princes and senators who wanted to impress you and your mother.  They’d send Fi and guardsmen to look for you, and I’d always find you lying under the flowers or behind the fountains.”

Your brow furrows as you try to figure out what he’s doing.  This is Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader Snoke’s apprentice, master of the Knights of Ren, commander in the First Order, _Jedi Killer_ — not someone you sit in the grass with and exchange long forgotten memories with.  Is this some kind of attempt of manipulation?  Is he trying to get on your good side?  What is this?  Why this?  Kylo hardly seems like the nostalgic type.

Unsure of what to say, or if you’re supposed to say anything, you walk up to the large fountain in the center of the garden and take a seat on the edge of it.  The large statue is a homage to your mother, dressed in an elegant ceremonial gown and headdress, a new addition to the fountain since Kylo has last been here.  You and Ben used to throw coins into the water and make wishes about the future.

Kylo doesn’t join you, choosing instead to stand, slightly angled from where you’re sitting, watching as your fingertips graze along the water.  You can feel his stare — heavy, prying, curious — and your shoulders hunch defensively in reaction.

“You’re confused,” he says.  You don’t turn to look at him, don’t say anything, because it’s a statement rather than a question.  “You want to know why I’m here.”

“Who wouldn’t want to know why their home is being invaded by the First Order?” you reply, focusing on a coin shimmering beneath the water.

“No, you want to know why _I’m_ here.”

At that, you can’t help but reel around to face him, your eyes alight with anger and irritation.  “Yes, I would very much like to know what you’re doing here, _Commander_ ,” you snap.  “You don’t need to be here, following me around.  You _know_ I wouldn’t run and abandon my people.  Surely Supreme Leader Snoke has more use for you than I do, and I highly doubt you’re here to exchange memories.  Unless you’ve become that sentimental in the last decade.”

You wish he wasn’t wearing that stupid mask, so that you could see his anger or his scowl.  Instead, all you notice is the way his hands clench at his sides.

He doesn’t answer, and for some reason, you’re feeling reckless, so you egg him on even more.  “So what is it, Ben?  Why are you _here_?”

One of his hands goes to his lightsaber, like his first response is break and destroy,  and you gasp, closing your eyes as you turn away from him.  When nothing comes, other than the sound of his heavy breathing, you slowly open your eyes, looking at him with a side glance.  Both of his hands are at his side now, but he’s flexing his fingers.  “You think I’d hurt you,” he says, his voice strained.

There’s something accusatory, and almost hurt, in his tone.  For a second, you feel guilty; the part of you that’s still fifteen, still a princess, still a young girl hoping for her happily-ever-after with her knight in shining armor.  And when you realize that it’s guilt you’re feeling, it’s immediately replaced with a burning fury that makes you want to _hit_ him.  He has _no_ right to be hurt.  “I know Ben Solo would never hurt me,” you say, biting, and he flinches, “but I don’t know Kylo Ren.”

He’s clenching his fists again, and they’re shaking, like they want to hit something.  You don’t look away from him, refusing to back down or show any fear.  Kylo is the one to back down, spinning around and storming off, fists clenched at his sides, anger rolling off his body in waves.

You release a heavy breath once he’s gone, though you can still feel the tension in your shoulders.

Maybe it was a victory, but it feels pretty hollow.

* * *

_“Have you seen the Princess?”_

_“No, not since this afternoon.  Has she gone missing again?”  It’s a joking tone, but the silence is confirmation enough.  “Oh.”_

_“Dinner started fifteen minutes ago.  The Queen is starting to run out of excuses for the senator and his son.”_

_“Have you checked the library?”_

_“Twice.”_

_“Kriff.”_

_You wait until the footsteps disappear into the distance before exhaling and rolling onto your back, peeking out from underneath the brush you’ve been using as a hiding place.  This is the fourth dinner in the last week, and the last three were absolutely insufferable; there’s no way you can sit through another one.  They’ve all been described as “diplomatic,” but you know the real intention behind them — they’re hoping to woo you and your mother into a marriage offer._

_No thank you._

_Sighing, you throw your arms above your head, stretching out your limbs and making a small sound of content._

_“Hiding in the bushes?  Really?”  You yelp at the intruder’s voice, instinctively curling up and retracting under the brush (despite having already been caught red-handed), though that draws a laugh from Ben.  “What are you_ doing _?” he asks, in between snickers._

 _You shush him, motioning for him to come down to your level.  Ben merely quirks an eyebrow, but you’re insistent, tugging on the hem of his cloak.  Going against his better judgment, and truly unsure why (probably because he’s intrigued by your messy hair and playful eyes), Ben drops into a squat, so that he can meet your eyes.  “No,” you hiss, “come_ here _.”  You wrap your fingers in his shirt and give him a strong tug, successfully pulling him off his feet and into the brush._

_Ben splutters, mouth full of leaves and twigs, but you just giggle as you settle him next to you.  “Are you crazy!?” he says._

_There’s some rustling and shouting nearby, so you quickly slap your hand over Ben’s mouth, stifling his protests.  You bring a finger to your lips, wearing a small, amused smile, and his stifled grumbling stops._

_“Not in the library,” you hear your mother’s handmaid say._

_“Or the kitchens,” says another._

_“Maybe we should be seek help from Master Luke.”_

_“To find our Princess?  How helpless do you want him to think we are?”_

_“... I’m feeling_ quite _helpless, as I usually do when she runs away.”_

_A heavy sigh.  “Fine.”_

_There’s some back and forth between the two as they scurry off in search of the Jedi Master; you only drop your hand from Ben’s mouth when you’re certain they’re gone again.  (His lips tingle in the absence of your skin.)  “If you make anymore noise,” you say, “you’re going to get me caught.”_

_He deadpans.  “I’d rather get you caught than be an accomplice in your runaway.”_

_“I’m not_ running away _,” you say, rolling your eyes.  You shift so that you’re laying on your back again, and you place your hands on your stomach; you can feel his gaze on you, curious and intrigued.  “I’m just too tired to entertain.  I’m taking a break.  In hiding.”_

_He scoffs, and you give him only a half-hearted glare.  “‘Too tired to entertain’?  It must be so difficult to be royalty.”_

_“I would_ love _to see you sit through one of those dinners, Ben Solo,” you say.  “Sure, wielding lightsabers and controlling the Force and lifting rocks and reading people’s minds comes with their own difficulties, but dealing with politicians and diplomats and their_ sons _?  Ugh.”  Ben can’t tell if you’re kidding or not, but he feels his mouth twitching upwards in amusement anyway.  “They’re so_ boring _.  I’d rather talk to a bantha for a week than sit in the same room as one of them for one dinner.  They’re awful, Ben.  Awful.”_

_He’s not sure what he expected when Uncle Luke told him he would accompanying him on this assignment.  As the son of Leia Organa, he’d had his fair share of politics, but he’d never really met a princess.  He was imagining a poised, stern, uptight girl — all words he can’t attribute to you.  You’re different.  There’s something about you that sets him on edge, but not necessarily in a bad way.  A way that makes him want to know more about you.  He came into this thinking this was going to be boring, just watching royalty go from one place to another in their extravagant palace, but now…_

_Now he’s laying under the brush with the Princess of New Alderaan, as she hides from the palace staff and the visiting senator’s son._

_“You know,” he says, “if they get Master Luke involved, the jig’s up.”_

_“Gee,” you say, giving him a dry look, “thanks.”  Suddenly, there’s a thoughtful expression on your face, one that makes him slightly nervous.  “Hey, you’re basically a Jedi, right?”_

_He can’t help but look offended.  “Well_ — _”_

_“I’d say a princess and an almost-Jedi could give a Master Jedi a run for his money,” you say._

_“What!?”_

_You don’t give him an explanation, instead just grinning toothily.  Before he can ask anymore questions, you crawl out from underneath the brush, completely unconcerned about the dirt and the twigs and the leaves clinging to your dress, drag him out, and pull him to his feet.  “Wai_ — _”  You grab him by the wrist, tugging him deeper into the gardens, towards the elaborate hedge maze at the other end of the courtyard.  “Your Highness_ — _!”_

 _“Sssh!”  You hold your finger to your lips again, but this time you’re smiling much wider, and his heart lurches at the sound of your laughter.  “C’mon,_ Padawan _Ben,” you say teasingly.  “If they find you with me, they’ll make you sit in on the dinner, too, and Senator Lindon’s son’s favorite hobby is talking about himself.”_

_You tug him around the corner, your eyes and smile as bright as the sun, and he find himself completely forgetting about what and who’s waiting in the dining hall.  “Alright,” he says, and your fingers squeeze around his pulse, “whatever you want, Princess.”_

* * *

 You’ve had a lot of awful dinners in your lifetime, but this is by far the worst.  You’ve heard stories and seen holograms of Supreme Leader Snoke, but nothing could adequately prepare you for meeting him in person.  He’s tall (though it doesn’t take much to be taller than you), and despite his slight figure, the grotesque scarring and burns on his face make him an intimidating figure.  He sits at the head of the table, with General Hux and Kylo Ren on either side of him, and various other First Order leaders beside them.  Flanking Snoke is his Praetorian Guard, silent and still, but imposing and terrifying nonetheless.

You sit at the other end of the table, back straight and a smile on your face, seemingly more put together than your fidgeting senators.  You can’t blame them; this all came upon them very suddenly, with most of them having received a stress signal yesterday after the arrival of the First Order.  You’re not sure what they’d been expecting when they arrived, but you doubt it was a dinner party with Snoke.  You know you have to keep a brave face, though, no matter how afraid you are of the implications.  You can’t let them (both Snoke and your senators) think you’re weak.

“I’m sure you have many questions.”  Snoke’s voice startles you, despite all your attempts to steel yourself.  It only makes you feel a little bit better that all of your senators look as pale as you feel.  “I’ve been wanting to meet the Queen of New Alderaan.”

“Really,” you say, sounding more sarcastic than disbelieving.  Faintly, you hear Fi sighing behind you.  “That is, I’m surprised,” you clarify, once you see the terror in Senator Grace’s eyes.  “We’re a small planet without much influence.  I didn’t think we’d even be on the First Order’s radar.”

“You do you and your planet a discredit, Your Highness.”  Kylo had said the same thing, but you’re still finding it difficult to find his words to be genuine.  “Contrarily, you and New Alderaan will be of great use to the First Order.”

 _Will be_.  As in it’s already been decided.  This is hardly a diplomatic dinner; it’s a debriefing.  He’s telling you what he’s going to do to you.

Your hands clench in your lap, fisting in your dress.  “This is truly an honor,” you say, your voice even.

“New Alderaan shall serve as the First Order’s new base.  I understand that you lack military prowess, but my advisors inform me that there is plenty of land to build a new compound.  Construction will begin immediately.”

Your heart is in your throat, your chest constricting painfully.  Everything the Supreme Leader is saying is a buzz in your ears; despite your gaze, straight ahead, attentive, your mind is whirling.  You didn’t think it would come this quickly, wouldn’t be this forthright.  This is an invasion.  The First Order is invading your planet, your home.  Your mother gave up everything to build New Alderaan and now this—

“Your Highness.”  Your vision clears at the sound of Senator Grace’s (concerned) voice.  “The Supreme Leader was saying how he’s looking forward to an alliance between the First Order and New Alderaan.”

The fear is very evident on your senators’ faces now, and you wish you could turn around to look at Fi; you can feel the rage emanating from her.  You want to stand tall in the face of adversity, to spit in his face and tell him to leave and never come back.  You want to be as strong as the Resistance leaders, as the old Rebel Alliance — you want so desperately to expel these monsters from your land.  But you think of your people, of the children you mentor in the library every week, of the smiling faces you see in the marketplace, of Fi and Cora and Aeri and Ellora, of your senators.  You think of all these people, who trust you as they trusted your mother, and you know you can’t put them in danger.  (You’ve done that enough by failing to be proactive.)  Your people will always come first, and you know that if you spit and fight and scream, the First Order will raze your planet until it’s nothing more than ash.

“As do I,” you say.  The smile you wear is so forced it’s painful.  “I can only hope we live up to your expectations, Supreme Leader.”  The smile he wears is ugly, rendered grotesque by his malformed jaw.  

You find yourself looking away, feeling queasy; you can’t believe it’s come to this.

“Please,” Senator Grace says, finding the words in your absence, “enjoy dinner.  Let this be the first celebration of our great alliance.”

You’re grateful for the distraction.  As your servants come in and out, moving through four courses, you find yourself unable to eat.  Even your wine goes mostly untouched through dinner.  All you can think about is what this means for your people, and how radically your lives are going to be altered because of this.  How is this going to affect your relationship with the New Republic?  With the Resistance?  How will this affect your resources and your economy?  Will your people think you sold them out, or will they understand?  Will you be able to have any say in your government, or will you just become a puppet for Snoke?

What would your mother do?  (You think she would weep at the loss of your autonomy.)

There has to be some way to get in touch with the Resistance.  It would be impossible to send a messenger without getting caught, and you aren’t going to put anyone’s life at risk.  (Furthermore, you’re sure the repercussions would hurt all New Alderaanians.)  But if you could just relay a message, a code of some kind…

You quickly dispel the thoughts, reminding yourself of whose presence you’re currently in.  Snoke and Kylo can read your mind; the last thing you need is to be under constant surveillance from the get-go due to treasonous brainstorming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kylo shifting in his seat.  You notice that he hasn’t touched any of his food or drink.  You suppose it would take away the intimidation aspect, to see his face and see him as anything other than an enforcer.  Part of you feels bad for him, if only because he’s missing out on the best wine in the galaxy.  You remind yourself that it’s definitely planned, though, just like having Snoke’s entire Praetorian Guard present was planned.  It’s overkill, but it’s _meant_ to be overkill.

As dinner wraps up and the servants take away the dessert plates, you start to fidget.  You want to talk with your senators, to confer and map out a plan, or at least them know you’re going to work on a plan, but that would be too suspicious.  You haven’t had the opportunity to explain anything to them (not that you have any answers for their questions), and you don’t want them to think that you sought this alliance out, that you’re a traitor to your own planet.

“I hope your living quarters are up to your expectations,” you say, as you start to slide your chair back.  The senators notice the movement, and they carefully follow in suit.  “We didn’t have much time to prepare.  If you have any issues or need any more space, please let me know, or speak to Cora.  Now, if you don’t mind, Supreme Leader, it’s been quite a while since I’ve had all of my senators in the same place, and I’d like to briefly convene with them before they return to their assignments.”  That’s politically correct enough, right?  Sure, everyone knows that just means you want to talk to them and let them know everything is okay, but maybe it’s less suspicious if you’re just upfront about it.

Hux turns to Snoke with a raised eyebrow, which has you immediately questioning your decision.

“Very well,” Snoke says, and you’re sure your surprise is an obvious as Hux’s.  That was surprisingly easy.  That, or he knows you’re powerless and there’s nothing that you can say or do that will stop him.  If nothing else, it’d be entertaining to watch you try.

It’s incredibly patronizing, but you’re not in the position to complain.

“Thank you,” you say.  “Senators—”

“Before you leave, Your Highness,” Snoke interjects, “I’d like a word with you.  Alone.”

You can see Fi’s fingers tightening around her blaster.  “Of course.”  You give her a brief, but strong look, before turning to your senators, all of who have blanched.  You give a reassuring smile, despite the tightness in your chest.  “I’ll find you in the meeting hall.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“ **(Y/N)** ,” Fi murmurs.

“Go with the senators, Fi,” you say.  “I’ll meet you all there.”

They all move out of the dining room, all with great reluctance, and are followed by the First Order leaders, including General Hux.  When the doors close behind you, it’s just you, Kylo Ren, and Snoke; even the Praetorian Guards have taken their leave.  You swallow thickly, the heavy silence weighing on you with each step you take towards Snoke.  Even when seated while you stand, his presence makes you feel small.  You feel like you’re standing in front of the executioner, waiting for the axe.

“You have not been on the throne for long,” Snoke says.  “Tell me, child,” (you suppress a wince; he uses the term with such familiarity), “how long have you been Queen?”

“Since my mother passed.”  Kylo looks at you, but you keep your gaze on Snoke.  There’s something prying (and almost sympathetic) in the way he looks at you that almost makes you angry.  “About five years ago.”

“And you have been ruling on your own.”

“With the help of my advisors and senators, yes.”  You’re already starting to sense what direction he’s heading in with this line of questioning, and you heart leaps to your throat at the mere prospect of it.  “My mother ruled alone for twenty-five years.  She laid the groundwork for what New Alderaan is today.”

But he’s not listening to you anymore.  Instead, he perches his elbows on the table, pressing his fingertips together.  His eyes briefly glance at Kylo; it’s quick, but you catch it, and that’s enough to confirm your dread.  “Surely you don’t want to rule alone for that long.  From what I gather and from what I’ve seen, you are a beloved ruler.  Your people trust you.”  If it were anyone else saying this, you’d be flattered, even touched.  “You want the best for them.”

“Of course I do,” you say, your brow furrowing.  “Like you said, they trust me.”

“You want the best for them?”

“Of course.”

“An alliance with the First Order will bring prosperity to your land.  I do not doubt you will benefit from this.”  You can’t help but feel that your people will feel very differently.  “They may be concerned, initially, however.  I would _hate_ to cause any strife between you and they.”  You highly doubt that.  “But if there is a formal, public declaration of the alliance…”

You swallow thickly as you look at Kylo, who physically withdraws under your gaze.  “I…”   _I don’t understand_ , you want to say.   _I can’t.  I don’t want to.  I won’t._

There’s a glint in Snoke’s eyes; he knows that you know, and he knows that you are in no position to decline.  This entire thing has been about appearances, illusions.  The First Order coming to New Alderaan, the illusion for an invasion.  This dinner, the illusion of diplomacy.  This alliance, the illusion of choice.  This entire time, you’ve been spoken to as though you’ve had a choice, as though you have any say in the matter — but your fate, and the fate of New Alderaan, was sealed the moment Snoke decided on you.  This was all meant to be an illusion, but you’re no idiot.

“A union between the beloved Queen of New Alderaan and the Master of the Knights of Ren, Commander of the First Order,” Snoke says, and your heart stills in your chest.

“A marriage,” you say.  You’re looking right at Kylo Ren, but even in his mask, you know he’s not looking at you.  You wish he would, so he could see the pure contempt in your eyes.

Snoke smiles enigmatically.  “A marriage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a pinterest board bc i love extravagant dresses so i imagined the dinner dress to be like [this](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bf/bc/20/bfbc203d6a68cef71413053b5202221a.jpg) and hair to be like [this](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/df/b0/b7/dfb0b7cc29c73d080e60fdd3f0861218.jpg). i'm also working on a playlist bc i'm obsessive but haven't finished it yet
> 
> but anyway thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos!! i hope you all enjoyed this chapter and come back for the next :)


	3. something old, something new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You used to imagine what it would be like to marry Ben Solo.

“... Your Highness?”

You look up from your hands, which have been curling and uncurling in your lap, only to see the concerned faces of your senators.  You quickly brandish a smile, one that could be convincing were it not for your earlier blank expression.  “I’m sorry,” you say.  “I promise I’m listening.  I’m just…”

“Distracted,” Senator Grace says, smiling.  “Understandable.”

You still haven’t told them about the proposal.  How do you bring that up?  In the ten minutes you were gone, you went from single monarch to Kylo Ren’s betrothed.  Honestly, you haven’t been able to process it.  Part of you wonders if it really happened, if it wasn’t one of those Jedi mind tricks.

“Has there been any attempt to contact…”  Senator Arimarc trails off, afraid of mentioning the Resistance by name; First Order troops and generals could be anywhere.  You’re sure all of you are being watched right now.  He clears his throat, sitting a little straighter, aware of his mistake.

“No,” you answer.

“We don’t know where they are,” Fi says.  “And it would be impossible to send anything.”

“I know this… alliance,” (it takes all that you have to say the word; it doesn’t feel right to describe what’s happening to your planet), “was unexpected.  However, I believe New Alderaan will come out of this stronger than she was before.  She has to.  We have to.”  You hesitate, trying to decide if now is the right time to mention the marriage.  In the end, you’re unable to muster up the words — or just the courage.  “Senators Grace and Iain, as I mentioned previously, you two will return to the assignments you were on previous to being called back here.  Senators Arimarc and Brila will stay here, to help with the alliance.”

Your senators bow their heads in agreement.  “Yes, Your Highness,” they say.

“Good.  Well.”  Sighing, you stand up from your seat, and try to smile as genuinely as possible at them.  “Let’s not waste anymore time, then.”  As they head out, you quickly stop Grace, taking both of her hands in yours.  “Look for them,” you say quickly, under your breath.  “While you’re out there, look for them.  Let them know.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she says, squeezing your hands.  “Be safe.”

You watch as she exchanges a look with Iain, who nods in silent understanding, and the two head towards the dock.  Once they’re out of sight, you turn to the side, sighing, and run a hand down your face.  The emotional and mental exhaustion of the day washes over you, weighing on your shoulders.  It’s only early afternoon and you feel like you could sleep for the rest of the day.

“ **(Y/N)**.”  Fi places a hand on your shoulder.  “What happened in there?” she asks, her voice gentle.

“A lot,” you say.  Her look of concern morphs into a deadpan, unamused, and you can’t help but laugh.  “I’ll tell you later.  I just… need to digest it.”

That does nothing to ease her worries, but she understands.  “Very well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Fi.  I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Would you like me to—”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer.  “I need to be by myself for a bit.”  When she looks uncertain, you playfully tug on the sleeve of her uniform.  Fi is a year younger than you, but she’s always acted like a more responsible older sister.  “I’ll be fine.  It’s not like they’re gonna off me right off the bat.”

Her sigh almost sounds like a groan.  “Don’t say that.”

“I’ll come find you in an hour or two.  If you hear screaming in a distant part of the palace, don’t worry — it’s just me looking for catharsis.”  Another dry look.  She’s so tired of you.  “I’ll be fine, Fi.  Take a break.  Who knows when you’ll be able to have another one of those.”

It’s with great reluctance, but Fi shuffles off to find Cora, and you try to get lost in the palace you grew up in.  You try to ignore the various stormtroopers who pass by you (not without a second glance in your direction), the higher ups to stop to introduce themselves to you (you don’t remember any of their names, to be honest), the bigger representatives who don’t try to hide their whispering about you.  Every now and then, you find a worried servant or handmaid, and you try to ease their concerns, but you’re just trying to find some peace to be by yourself.

Finally, after half an hour of wandering through hallways, and up and down stairs, you find some solitude at the top of one of the towers in the east wing.  You walk out onto the balcony overlooking the city and rest your arms on the railing, hunching over as you release a heavy breath.

Marriage.  

Of course it’s something you’ve thought about.  You’ve been meeting potential suitors since you were fifteen, and there was some pressure by your senators and advisors to find someone suitable after your mother’s death.  You’d stopped seeing them after the first year, though; you dealt with your grief by burying yourself in your work, but continuing your mother’s legacy.  You didn’t need help serving New Alderaan, and when they saw your resolve they stopped pressuring you.  You haven’t thought much of marriage since.

There’d been a time you thought of what it would be like to marry Ben Solo.  What it would be like, if it were allowed, to be his wife and live with each other as a family and have children.  You dreamt of having a small getaway on Naboo, where you’d go when you got tired of the city and just wanted to be with one another.  You thought it would be so romantic, maybe because you knew it was condemned and it could never happen (and if it did, never publicly, but how would one keep that secret anyway).  Still, you thought about it often, and so did Ben.

* * *

_“There you are.”  You yelp as Ben hops down from the ledge, landing on his feet beside you.  “That was a long brunch.”.  You continue to walk briskly, but his long legs make it easy to keep up with you; it’s leisurely, the way he strides beside you, his hands in his pockets, and it makes you want to thwack him.  “So how was Prince Kaiden?” he asks teasingly.  “Or was it Senator Adala’s son today?  Or was that earlier this week?  It’s hard to keep up.”_

_He squawks in surprise when you reel around to face him, and he takes one step back as you jab him forcefully in the chest with your finger.  “I’m not in the mood for it today.”_

_“Are you ever?”_

_You deadpan.  “I hate you.”_

_As you turn sharply to leave,  Ben grabs you by your upper harm, trying (and failing) to hide an amused grin.  “Hey, hey, hey, c’mon.  I’m sorry.  I’m just teasing.  C’mon.”  You try to fortify your glare, despite the way he soothingly rubs his thumb back and forth against your skin.  “It was that bad, huh?”_

_You relent with a very un-princesslike groan, practically collapsing against him as you bury your face into his shoulder.  Ben jumps a little at the sudden movement, but he chuckles as he gives your back a sympathetic pat.  You’d call him out on being patronizing, but you’re too emotionally exhausted to fight him.  “It was awful,” you say, your voice muffled by his tunic.  “He was awful.  He had the personality of sand.  He has no interests.  He literally said, ‘I don’t know’ when I asked him about his interests._ NO _interests, Ben!  None!”_

_“Maybe he was just so intimidated by your beauty that he was a loss for words,” Ben suggests._

_You pull back to glare at him.  “Oh, kriff off.”_

_He laughs.  “I’m serious!  I don’t think you understand how intimidating you can be.”_

_“You could stand to be a little more intimidated by me.”_

_“Hard to do when I’ve seen you playing hide and seek under the peonies.”_

_“Good_ bye _, Ben.”_

_Again, he yanks you back as you try to make your escape, but this time he takes you by your wrist, pulling you into the shade between the trees.  You only give a half-hearted attempt at struggling in his embrace, eventually flopping against him as he holds you tight to his chest, his chin perched on the top of your head.  “If it makes you feel any better,” he says, giving you a full-body squeeze that makes your heart throb, “I hate seeing you meet with those guys as much as you hate going.”_

_You blow a raspberry right into his chest, which draws a laugh from him.  “You take my place then.  We’ll switch.”_

_“Not sure how they’d react to getting a rookie Jedi instead of a princess.”_

_“Rookie Jedi?” you echo.  “Giving yourself a little too much credit, aren’t you, Padawan?”  Ben’s the one glaring now, and before you can get away, he tousles your hair, tangling your elaborate braids and waves.  “Ben, no!” you shriek.  “I was—  I was kidding!  Kriff, Ben Solo, I’m going to kill you—!  Ugh, you are ridiculous.”  You give him a rough push, but he just chortles as he takes a couple steps backwards away from you.  “At least Prince Kaiden respected my hair,” you grumble, running your fingers through your hair as you walk away from him._

_Ben catches up with you in three easy strides, his hands back in his pockets.  “So.”_

_You shoot him a dirty side glance as you continue to struggle to untangle your hair.  “What?”_

_“You’ve been meeting a lot of princes and senators and sons and cousins and important people.”_

_“So?”_

_“So.”  He casually steps around, so that he’s standing in your path, forcing you to stop.  “It’s been a lot.  I mean, a lot more than usual, than before.  Are they…”  He bites his lip, hesitant to finish his question, though you already know what he wants to ask.  “Is there…  Are they pressuring you to get married soon?  The senators, and the Queen.  Are you…?”  He swallows thickly, and you follow the movement of his neck with your eyes, unable to meet his gaze._

_This conversation really took a turn for the serious.  “No more pressure than usual,” you murmur._

_He scoffs.  “You’re seventeen now.”_

_Your brow furrows.  “So?”_

_“So,” he says, beginning to sound irritated, “you’re closer to being of age for marriage.  They’re practically throwing future royalty and politicians at you.”_

_You know what he’s getting at, and it’s both the fact that he’s thinking it and the fact that he won’t outright say it, that makes you angry.  “So?” you repeat yourself, this time with a taunting edge._

_His jaw clenches, the way it always does when he gets frustrated.  You’ve seen it set like that many times: when being scolded by Master Luke, when he struggles with something new, when you call him a padawan, when Cora and Fi tease him, when he doubts himself.  You can see the insecurity swimming below the surface.  “So what is this then?” he snaps, finally.  “Just a little fling before you spend the rest of your life next to some boring diplomat?  Get your excitement now, before you’re shackled down?”_

_“You’re being an ass, Ben,” you hiss._

_“Why?  Because I’m being honest?”_

_“You’re not being honest, you just want me to say—”  You press your lips together firmly, jutting out your chin a little bit in defiance.  When he quirks an eyebrow at you challengingly, you huff and give his chest a light push.  “You just want me to say that I want you.”_

_He snorts, and you almost slap him.  “Don’t you?” he asks, but it’s a statement rather than a question._

_Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, and this time you give him a rough shove, causing him to stagger backwards.  “Don’t think you’re special, Ben Solo.”_

_“Funny you say that,” he says, sneering, “since it’s usually_ me _I see in your wedding fantasies.”_

_Your entire face feels like it’s on fire.  “I told you to stay out of my head!”_

_“Hard to do when you leave yourself so open.”_

_“You’re….  You’re such a kriffing….”  You can feel tears gathering in your eyes, mostly from the pure fury surging through your body, and when Ben notices his harsh gaze immediately softens.  That only adds fuel to the fire, and this time you push him so hard he actually falls down.  “Do you think I_ want _this?  To be treated like some kind of… prize?  To know that they don’t trust me to rule on my own?  It’s not like this isn’t hard for me, too, Ben.”_

_Immediately, he’s on his feet and you’re in his arms; you struggle a little harder this time, stomping on his feet and pushing against his chest, but his embrace his tight.  You eventually give in, your body going slack against his, and one of his arms winds around your shoulders while the other clings to your waist, his long body hunching over yours.  “Sorry,” he mumbles, his lips moving against your hair.  “I’m sorry.  I know it isn’t easy for you.  It’s just… getting to me.”_

_“Obviously.”_

_He chuckles at your insistent snark.  “You know…”  His fingers play with the ends of your hair.  “I think about it a lot, too.”_

_“About what?”_

_“Us, getting married.  A wedding.”  You can feel your body heating up again, and while you’re grateful he can’t see your face because it’s buried in his chest, you know he notices.  “I didn’t mean to pry…  But it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.”_

_Your arms circle around Ben’s waist, hugging him close, and he smiles against the crown of your head.  “No,” you say quietly, “you’re definitely not the only one.”_

* * *

 There’s a tug at the base of your skull, and you instantly whip around to face Kylo, only to find him standing near the staircase.  “How long have you been standing there?” you ask.  The pressure alleviates as he withdraws from his (attempted) intrusion into your head.

“Not long,” he says.

“How did you find me?”  He doesn’t answer, though you already know; the two of you snuck up to this tower often, usually at night, when the guards began patrolling the gardens.  You shared hopes and dreams and fears and everything in between on this balcony, under this sky.  “Well, I guess that doesn’t matter.  What do you want?”  You slap your hands over your mouth in faux surprise.  “Oh, don’t tell me — you’re here to propose!  Properly!  On your own, instead of through your master!  Oh, so romantic!”

You can almost hear him scowling behind the mask.  “The Supreme Leader wanted me to speak with you.”

You scoff.  “Everything for the Supreme Leader.  Do you do anything for yourself, these days?”

He steps right up to you, so that you’re standing toe-to-toe, and the movement is so quick that you can’t help but gasp.  “Don’t.”

You steel yourself, despite how he towers over you, despite the strength in his shoulders and arms and build.  You are a queen and you will not kneel to someone who has sold themselves to the likes of the First Order.  “You’ve been saying that to me a lot,” you say.  “Isn’t there anything else you want to tell me?”

Kylo swallows, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.  Just as you think he’s going to storm away again, he reaches up to his helmet and presses his thumbs against it.  You step back, jolting a bit at the sharp hiss of air that comes from the mask.  Kylo pulls it off, and it hangs at his side.

He looks the same, you think.  Older, yes.  Harder, yes.  But the same.  You know that face, those eyes, that nose, those lips, even if you don’t recognize the anger beneath all of it.  It’s harder, but it’s still him, still Ben.  Your fingers twitch, like they itch to trace the curves of his cheeks and the sharper line of his jaw, but you meet his eyes (dark and spiteful and full of hate), and instead you fold your arms across your chest.  

He looks like Ben Solo, but it’s not him, not really, you remind yourself.

“I thought you’d be happier to see me,” he says, mocking.

“Funny,” you say.  “I thought so, too.”

There’s a brief moment of weakness, where his brow furrows and his scowl drops into something sadder and there’s a flash of hurt behind all the fury in his eyes.   _It’s there_ , the young, girlish part of you says.   _Ben’s still there._

But just like that, it’s gone.  He steps around you, knocking against your shoulder roughly as he goes to stand near the railing.  You stand behind him, unsure, arms still folded, watching his back.  

“You used to imagine what it’d be like to marry me,” he says.  “To be married to me.”

“I used to imagine what it’d be like to marry Ben Solo,” you correct him.

“Am _I_ that much different?”

You frown.  Is this some kind of test?  “I don’t know,” you answer honestly.  Truthfully, as much disdain you harbor towards him for everything he’s done, you don’t really _know_ him, not as he is now.  

His grip around the railing tightens, the leather of his gloves creaking.  “It wasn’t an offer, you know,” he says.  “The Supreme Leader doesn’t make suggestions.”

“I know,” you say.  Your chest feels heavy, like there’s something sitting on top of it.  Even if you’d already known the marriage had been an order, hearing it out loud makes it that much more real.

“What are you going to do?”

You raise an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”

“What are you going to do?” he repeats himself, as he turns to face you.

Irritation and frustration start to bubble in your chest, replacing that heavy feeling.  You narrow your eyes at him, and he shrinks back.  “You just got done saying I don’t have a choice.  I _know_ I don’t have a choice — not if I want to keep my people safe.  I may not know who you are anymore, _Kylo Ren_ ,” (he flinches), “but I hope that if you remember anything about me it’s that I will always put the protection of my people before anything else.   _Anything_ .  If that means forging an alliance with the First Order, so be it.  If that means marrying _you_ , so be it.  If that meant putting on a show, then so be it.  But I will never betray them, and I will never put them at risk.”

Kylo’s back is to the railing now, and you’ve advanced on him, leering up at him.  Even though he’s looking down at you at an entire foot, he looks so much smaller as he withers under your glare.

It feels like an eternity, the silence that passes between you.  Despite his slouched shoulders, Kylo’s eyes never leave yours, and you refuse to back down.  Whereas you can feel the fury in your own gaze, however, you struggle to understand what’s going on behind his — confusion, uncertainty, a yearning that makes no sense to you.  There’s conflict inside of him.

You move back from him, the storm squeezing tightly around your heart.  Whatever conflict he’s experiencing, you can’t allow yourself to be affected by it.

“I’ll speak to Cora and have everything arranged for the wedding,” you say.  “I’ll leave it to you to tell the Supreme Leader he’ll be getting exactly what he wants.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, and for a moment you hesitate, as though hoping to draw it out from him.  Whatever answer or question he has sits in his throat, though, and you realize you’re tired of waiting.

“If you need me,” you say, tilting your chin up at him before turning your back to him, “I’m sure you’ll know where to find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a lil short but i promise the next one will make up for it! as always, thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! it means so so much to me :)


	4. man in the mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Ben Solo is still in there somewhere.

Fi is absolutely _furious_.  She’s been screaming threats and expletives and disgust for the past thirty minutes, and she’s been so busy trying to figure out how to tear Kylo Ren from limb to limb that she doesn’t notice when Cora unhooks her blaster and hides it.  (The last thing you need is another blaster hole in your wall, especially since the aforementioned Commander is now staying in the room next to yours.) You’d begun to zone out halfway through her tirade, only because you’re so exhausted from everything that’s happened, so it takes you a second to realize she’s addressing you now.

“You _cannot_ agree to this, **(Y/N)** ,” she says.

You blink, wiping the sleep (and eyeshadow) from your eyes.  “What choice do I have?” you ask. It’s not defensive or angry, just tired.  “If I say no, it’ll be seen as an act of resistance. At best, I’ll be taken into custody and starved in my own prison.  At worst, I’ll be executed. Either way, our people suffer and New Alderaan ceases to exist as it is. If I go along with this…”

If you go along with this, you marry a commander of the First Order.  You forfeit marrying for love. You become a puppet for Snoke. Your people think you sold them out.  The Resistance assumes you betrayed them.

If you go along with this, you can buy some time for Grace and Iain to make contact with the Resistance.  You can sit in on diplomatic meetings, even if you really have no say. Maybe you can gather some information, be of some use.  If you go along with this, at least you’ll have a chance. At least New Alderaan will have a chance.

“I have to do it,” you say.  “I have to.”

Fi’s jaw sets hard as she withholds any further comment, and Aeri looks like she’s about to cry.  “Your Majesty,” Aeri says, her lower lip quivering.

Cora walks over to you, while Fi attempts to glare a hole into the floor, and she takes your hands in hers.  Her eyes are soft, as is her touch, and while there is despair in her gaze so too is there a glimmer of hope.  You grew up with Cora and Fi, and both of them kept you grounded, but Cora has always been the most empathetic.  She was the one who held you when your mother died. “You will be a beautiful bride, My Lady,” she says.

You try to smile as she squeezes your hands.  She’d always wanted to see you in New Alderaan’s matrimonial gold, but never under circumstances like this.

“I know you’ll make me one,” you say.

She and Aeri laugh, but it’s pained, forced.  Fi can’t bring herself to look at you; she knows you’re right, that you have no choice, and she also knows that you wouldn’t say that lightly.  You’ve never taken anything lying down, have never allowed yourself to be pushed around. She knows you’re right, that you truly are helpless in this situation.

“You must be tired, Your Highness,” Aeri says, gesturing for you to take a seat in front of the vanity.  When you do, she undoes your elaborate plait, and starts the process of preparing you for bed.

Cora quietly dismisses herself, murmuring something about making sure the other servants are comfortable, and Fi drops down onto your plush couch with a huff.  Despite the situation, you can’t help but grin. “With the way you’re acting, people will think _you’re_ the one getting roped into an arranged marriage,” you say.

“I’d rather it me than you,” she says.

“You don’t mean that.”  Fi groans, running her fingers through her bangs, pulling some hair loose from her braid.  “You’d never break Cora’s heart like that.” She snorts, but both of you know it’s true.

Finally, she looks up at you, her forearms resting on her thighs, her back hunched in defeat.  “I just feel like I’ve failed you. That there’s something I could’ve done. Something I should be doing now.”

“There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this,” you say.  “Nothing I could have done. Any _one_ of us could have done.  None of us are to blame.”  Just the First Order. Just Snoke and Hux and Kylo Ren.  You will not allow yourself or anyone on New Alderaan to take the blame for what has happened; all you can do now is react.  “Besides, as Queen, it’s my job to keep all of you protected.”

“It’s _my_ job to protect _you_ ,” she says, sounding exasperated.  “Not that you ever let me.”

“I was never good at sitting around and waiting.”

Fi catches your eyes in the mirror, and in that moment, she sees the resolve simmering underneath everything else.  This — this arranged marriage, this alliance, this “union” — may be a defeat, but it’s only one of many battles to come, and you have never been one to take anything lying down.

You stand up so that Aeri can undo your dress, and once it falls around your ankles, she quickly gets you into your silk robe.  “Would you like a bath, Your Highness?” she asks.

Subconsciously, you roll your shoulders, feeling the stiffness in your muscles.  “That would be great.”

“I’ll go draw one up, then.”

As Aeri scuttles off to the connecting bathroom, Fi folds her arms across her chest.  “I don’t trust him,” she says.

“Who?” you ask.

“Him,” she answers.  “Ben Solo. Kylo Ren.  Whoever the hell he is now.  I don’t trust him. Snoke, Hux, all of those higher ups —  I know what they all want. They’re easy to read; they have nothing to hide.   _Him_ , on the other hand…  I don’t trust him.”

“Is it because you know him?”

She shrugs.  “Maybe. Knew him, more like.  There’s something to be said about someone who’d do a complete 180 like he did.”

You remember quiet conversations with Ben, when his hands would shake and his voice would quiver, about the push and pull stirring within him.  About the dreams (nightmares) he had and the voices he heard. About strange desires and impulses that came from nowhere. You’d seen him crying, once, so distraught over the war in his mind and in his heart, and all you could do was hold him as he sobbed into your shoulder.  You think about his eyes and the way he looked at you earlier, so full of conflict.

Maybe it seems like a 180 to Fi, but you’ve always been aware of his duality.

“We’ll just have to be vigilant,” you say.

“I always am.”

* * *

 Over the next couple of days, you only run into Kylo a couple of times.  It’s usually when you’re alone, reading in the library or taking a stroll through the gardens or sneaking away to the kitchen, but before he can approach you, Fi or Cora or Aeri whisks you away.  You wonder if it’s intentional, and you wonder if he notices and starts to back off because of it, because after the fifth attempt at contact, when Fi drags you away from the cakes (and Kylo), he stops seeking you out.

There’s plenty to do aside from antagonizing and being antagonized by Kylo.  Cora keeps you preoccupied with colors and flowers and decorations and seating and cakes (your favorite part, and the only responsibility you have no complaints about), and General Hux relays messages between you and Snoke.  You don’t care much for Armitage Hux, but you can tell he’d rather be anywhere but here, which keeps his briefings short — which you appreciate. It’s usually about the invitation list, all the First Order allies and figureheads, but you don’t really care about that.  He can invite whoever he wants; it’s _his_ wedding.

While picking between lavender and coral, you wait for any kind of contact from Grace or Iain, but nothing comes.  You’re not surprised, especially since none of you have any idea where the Resistance is now, but you can’t help but hope.

At the end of the week, all of the preparations are complete, and there’s still no word from your senators.  In one week, if all things go according to Snoke’s plan, you’ll be married.

“The guests are starting to arrive,” Fi says, one morning, while Aeri prepares you for the day.

“And the accommodations?” you ask.

“All ready, Your Highness,” Cora answers.  “They’ll be staying in lodgings near the palace, save for the list of names General Hux supplied me with.  I’ve had rooms in the west wing prepared for the military leaders.”

Hearing that your home will be infested by First Order despots makes your stomach churn.  How did it come to this?

“How are the servants?” you ask.

“Unsettled,” Cora says honestly.  “They’re scared, of course. They’re not sure how to answer to the officers and diplomats.  They want answers, but they also understand the position you’re in.”

That’s been your  greatest concern. You knew from the beginning you wouldn’t be able to disclose anything to the servants or anyone outside your inner circle, but the last thing you want is for your people to think you’ve betrayed them in exchange for power or your own safety.  You want to believe that they know you well enough and trust you enough to believe you would never do that, and you know there’s little you can do now to change their minds if that’s the case, but the fear consistently prickles at the back of your mind.

As if reading your mind (and probably your face), Cora says, “You’re doing what’s best for them.”  Fi looks like she wants to protest, but Cora quickly meets her gaze in the mirror with a glare, and she presses her lips together.  “They might not see it, but you are. You’re protecting them, My Lady. It might seem like a surrender, but you know it’s not.”

You release a slow exhale, your lips curling upwards into a reluctant smile.  You take Cora’s hand, which is curled around your shoulder, and give her fingers a grateful squeeze.  “Thank you,” you say quietly.

She returns the smile before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.  “I have a couple things I need to discuss with General Hux. Some last minute details.  I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Be careful around him,” Fi warns her as she leaves.

“I don’t think Twi’leks are his type,” Cora teases.

Fi rolls her eyes.  “That’s not what I mean.  He’s got a slimy look to him that I don’t like.”

“I’ll take that into consideration while I’m talking about centerpieces with him.”  She giggles when Fi snorts, then kisses her cheek sweetly before sweeping out of the room.

Aeri completes your braid with a gold clasp, then steps away, looking pleased with her work.  “Thank you, Aeri. We’ve got an hour until breakfast, right?” you ask. As you stand up, you smooth out the soft material of your light pink dress.  “I’m gonna go for a walk. By myself, if you don’t mind,” you add quickly, when you see Fi’s shoulders hunch.

“Your Highness…”

“Just through the gardens.  Just a quick walk. I won’t skip out on breakfast, I promise.”  She merely gives you The Look as you slip through the door, without waiting for her denial of your request.  Just as she opens her mouth, you close the door to your room, and you can hear her huff loudly as you all but dash away.

You only slow down once you’re in the gardens, lost among the towering hedges and vines.  Your heart pounds and your lungs squeeze as you struggle to contain your laughter, dipping further and further into the maze — when your back collides with something hard.

You identify the presence without seeing it, immediately whirling around and assuming a defensive position.  “What are you doing here?” you hiss.

Kylo is wearing his stupid mask again.  Makes sense, since he’s probably been stomping around your palace for the last week.  Gotta keep up appearances. “Didn’t realize the roses were off limits.” You fold your arms across your chest, unimpressed.  “Running away again?”

“Trying to get some fresh air before breakfast,” you say.  “It gets stuffy in there.”

“And your bodyguards?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“The one with the blaster, and the Twi’lek.”  Oh, he’s talking about Fi and Cora, and their successful attempts to keep you as far away from Kylo Ren as possible.  Honestly, it’s been about a full week since you’ve really seen him. Even behind his mask, you can tell he’s looking around for any sign of one of them to swoop in and pull you away.  It’s kind of funny, thinking about how the commander of the First Order is frightened by your best friends.

You just shrug.  “Cora’s doing wedding things and I’m giving Fi a bit of a break.”

“Must be difficult being the Queen’s bodyguard.”

“You say that sarcastically but you _know_ it’s not easy being my bodyguard.”

He snorts.  “Oh yes. Hard to guard someone when they’re disappearing every ten minutes.”

“You’re exaggerating.”  You can tell he’s giving you a Look, which pulls a laugh from you.  “A little bit. I’m not that bad. I was much worse than I was younger.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”  What became a fairly light-hearted, playful conversation takes a turn for the uncomfortable as the realization sets in that you’re standing in front of your fiancé.  In one week, you’ll be husband and wife. You’ll be the wife to someone you barely know. (You’ve convinced yourself that Ben Solo is dead, that any remnant of him that might still exist is buried so deeply in Kylo Ren that you’ll never see him again.)  “Well. I’m going to continue my walk.”

You walk around him, deeper into the maze; unsurprisingly, his heavy steps follow you.  “I didn’t think that sounded like an invitation,” you say, continuing forward, though you spare a glance at him over your shoulder.  Also unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine. If you want to loom behind me through the gardens, be my guest.”

And Kylo Ren does what he does best — he _looms_.

You spend the next forty minutes ducking around corners and hiding behind starburst plants in attempts to shake him off, but he’s resilient.  Just when you think you’ve lost him, he meets you right outside the entrance to the maze. “Kriff—”

“It’s time for breakfast.”

You glare at him.  “Are you going to stand behind me and make sure I eat all my fruit, too?”

He lightly knocks his shoulder against yours, a playful nudge, when you fall into step with him.  “Don’t be smart,” he says. “The Supreme Leader isn’t big on sarcasm.”

“Oh, he’s going to be at breakfast today?” you say, unable to mask your disappointment.  It’s been a week since you’ve had to dine with the First Order. Can’t say you’ve missed their presence too terribly.

“I believe he wants to speak with you about the new compound, for the troopers.”

“Great, my favorite mealtime topic.”

“He also wants to know how preparations for the…”  You can’t decide if you’re more annoyed or amused by the fact that he chokes on the word ‘wedding.’  He notices your raised eyebrows and slight smirk, and he clears his throat in irritation. “He also wants to know how preparations for the _wedding_ are going.”

“They’re going, as far as I know,” you answer, shrugging.  “He’s better off asking Cora about those things. She’s taken care of everything.”

“I thought you’d want a more hands on approach with your wedding.”

“Maybe if it was under different circumstances.”  It’s only a slight movement, but you can see him flinch.  Part of you feels bad for the comment; maybe it was unwarranted.  Then you remember he’s invading your homeland and his master is basically ruining your life, so you shouldn’t feel bad for _anything_ you say to him.

“Ren, there you are.”  General Hux stops you in front of the doors to the dining room.  He looks both of you up and down, almost suspiciously, before he turns his sneer to Kylo.  “We’ve been looking for you.”

You snicker.  “Who’s running away, hiding around now?” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for Kylo to hear.

Kylo merely huffs at you, rolling a shoulder.  “What is it, General Hux?”

“The Supreme Leader would like to speak with you before breakfast.”  His blue eyes flicker to you briefly. “... Alone.”

“Oh, I won’t keep you from that,” you say, stepping out of the way.  “Take all the time you need, Commander.” You deflect his glare with a laugh, your shoulders moving with your giggles as he storms away with Hux behind him.  Hux says something to him quietly as he struggles to keep up with him, shooting a very conspicuous glance at you over his shoulder. You’re about ninety percent sure Kylo “trips” on purpose, shoving Hux into the wall as he catches himself.

You’re still chortling when Fi finds you a couple minutes later.  “What are you doing out here?” she asks. “You’re never late for your breakfast cakes.”

Your eyes light up.  “Cakes?”

“The chef heard Snoke and Kylo Ren were gonna be present, so he thought you’d like a little pick-me-up.”  She tugs on the end of your braid with a laugh. “Geez, you’re like a little kid.”

“Cakes can be _very_ grown up, I’ll have you know,” you say, as you push through the doors and she follows.  “And very queenly.”

“Hey.   **(Y/N)**.”  Before you can take your seat at the head of the table, she grabs you by your upper arm.  Her expression is one of concern. “I saw you, earlier. With Kylo Ren.”

“Are you spying on me?”

She deadpans.  “I was on my way to breakfast, and I was just using my eyes.  Besides, it’s not like you two were trying to hide or anything.”  You remember how she used to catch you and Ben sneaking away into the gardens or up one of the towers, how you used to beg her to not tell your mother when you two went gallivanting around the city in disguise when you were supposed to be meeting with a potential suitor.

“I’m surprised you didn’t swoop in to save me,” you say.

“Hux got to you before I could.”  You snort. “Seriously, though. Are you okay?  Did he say anything to you? Try to do anything to you?”

“I hope you’d have enough faith in me to think I could hold my own against him.”

“ **(Y/N)**.”

“I’m _fine_ , Fi,” you say.  “I can take care of myself.  Really. I’m okay.”

She gives you a dubious look, like she doesn’t quite trust your words.  Like there’s a part of her that still sees you as that young fifteen-year-old romantic infatuated with her padawan bodyguard.  Fi’s known you longer than anyone else has; if there’s anyone aware of your weaknesses, it’s her. In the end, though, she relents, though you can tell she wants to keep pushing.  Maybe she’s saving it for later, when there isn’t a string of First Order high command filing into the same room. “Whatever you say, Your Highness,” she mutters, as she takes her place beside you.

Breakfast starts late, thanks to whatever Snoke had to talk to Kylo about.  The Supreme Leader sits opposite of you at the other end, while Kylo takes the empty seat next to you.  There’s something stiff about him, you think, more stiff than usual, anyway. He never eats during meals, but today he’s especially tense, sitting on the edge of his seat, his hands curled into tight fists in his lap.  You’d be more concerned if the chef hadn’t made your favorite cakes.

Snoke drills you on wedding preparations, which you let Cora answer, and then he talks about how the new compound is “coming along nicely.”  You’re not really listening to the chatter that goes back and forth the table, and even when Snoke addresses you you just give vague answers that you think will satisfy him.  You know that’s stupid, that he can probably read your mind, but he probably doesn’t _really_ care.  This is all just a formality.

Once the meal ends, Snoke is the first to leave, and the chain of command follows, until it’s only you, Fi, and Kylo.  You can’t really tell because of his mask, but something tells you he hasn’t been present since he and Snoke arrived.

“Are you finally going to eat?” you joke, only because the silence is starting to suffocate you.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond, though he does seem to jolt from the sound of your voice, like it’s pulled him out of whatever reverie he’s been swimming in.

Your brow furrows in concern.  “Ben…?”

“I…  I need to talk to you,” he says, quickly but softly.  It’s the plea in his voice, the vulnerability, that tells you he’s speaking as Ben, not Kylo.  You know better, but it takes you by surprise, and your heart aches.

Fi tenses behind you.  “Your Highness…,” she says warningly.

You don’t hear her, though.  For a moment, you see Ben sitting there, his shoulders hunched, his hands shaking in his lap.  He used to have nightmares that would wake him up in the middle of the night, and you’d find him sitting on the edge of your bed, his fingers quaking.  You swear this could just be another one of those moments.

“Ben…”  You reach across the space between you, placing a hand on top of his.

His back straightens suddenly, like he’s been struck by lightning, and he swiftly pulls his hand out from underneath yours, knocking it away as he stands up.  You hate that you feel hurt from his rejection, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “It’s nothing,” he says, and it’s Kylo again. He storms out of the room, his fists balled at his sides, his lightsaber swinging against his hip.

Fi swallows as you stare down at your hand.  “ **(Y/N)**...”

You sniff quietly, but you know she hears.  “We have things to do.” You stand up, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress, and move towards the exit.  You push down the disappointment and anger and sadness that starts to swell in the pit of your stomach, and remind yourself what you need to do — and of who your enemies are, and who you’re fighting against.

* * *

_As soon as you feel the dip at the end of your bed, you wake.  He doesn’t notice at first, so you see it clearly: he’s rattled, his head in his hands which are shaking vigorously, his back hunched over.  His breathing is quiet, but it isn’t steady, and it looks like he’s struggling to just inhale. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before._

_“Ben?” you whisper._

_He sits up immediately; he looks embarrassed and ashamed.  “I… Sorry. Sorry. I couldn’t sleep. I had a bad dream, and…  Sorry, I don’t know why I came here.” He runs his fingers through his hair and gulps.  “I just couldn’t stay in my room, and I… I just needed to be with someone, and—”_

_“Hey, it’s alright.”  After adjusting the straps to your nightgown, you crawl out from underneath your cover, shifting until you’re sitting beside him.  You smile at him fondly as you take one of his hands into your lap, squeezing it reassuringly with both of yours. It warms your heart to know that he came to you.  “Really. It’s fine.”_

_He’s staring at your hands now, and his blush deepens.  “Sorry,” he breathes again._

_“Stop apologizing.”  He yelps when you pinch the skin of his hand, but you pull it back into your lap when he tries to retract it.  When he narrows his eyes at you, you flutter your eyelashes at him teasingly as you grin at him. “We’re friends, right?  Friends are supposed to come to each other with these things.”_

_“I know, but—”_

_“And you’re here, right?  Which means you thought the same thing.  At least subconsciously.” You lean against him, grinning up at him, and Ben is starstruck.  He has so much he wants to say, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. “But are you okay? You looked…  I don’t know. You looked scared. I’ve never seen you like that before.”_

_He releases a long, heavy breath.  “I’m okay. I just… It was just a… nightmare.  Just a dream.”_

_“‘Just a dream’ made you react like that?”_

_Ben tries to shrug it off, but you know it’s bothering him.  Whatever it was, whoever it was — it’s tormenting him. He doesn’t want to talk about it, though, and to be honest you can’t really blame him.  It’s hard showing your vulnerabilities to others, and even though you’re friends, like you said, you’ve never seen him like this. Still, the last thing you want is for him to feel ashamed for coming to you for comfort, even if he hadn’t been fully aware of it._

_“Well, anyway, are you feeling better now?” you ask._

_His shoulders drop, the tension easing from his bones.  “Yeah, thanks. I just… needed to breathe, I guess. Get my head and thoughts together.  I… Seriously, I’m so—”_

_Ben splutters when you shove your finger up against his lips, forcing his apology back down his throat.  “Hey, what did I say? Quit apologizing.”_

_He blinks slowly, like he’s finally coming to realize you regard him as more than just a bodyguard, that the two of you really are_ friends _.  He’s never really given much thought to it, to be honest.  Spending the majority of every day together, having meals together, wandering the palace and into the city together, reading in the library together, talking to each other and confiding in one another — he never questioned it, it felt so natural.  You’re friends. And he trusts you, he realizes._

_“Alright,” he acquiesces, a smile spreading underneath your finger.  “Thank you, then.”_

_You sit back on your heels with a grin, even when he pulls your finger away from his lips, squeezing it gently.  “You’re welcome.”_

* * *

 Kylo pays you a visit the night before your wedding.  You hadn’t been able to sleep, so a book lay open on your lap as you sit up in bed (though you weren’t doing much reading, none of the words really registering in your head), when the door opens and he comes in unannounced.  A part of you is annoyed that he doesn’t even have the decency to knock, but the other part is just _tired_.  You haven’t seen him since the beginning of the week, when he left you staring at your own hand at breakfast.  

“I thought it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride the day before the wedding,” you say, as he closes the door behind him.

He merely huffs, a harsh sound amplified by his mask.

Sighing, you shut your book and put it off to the side.  “What do you want?”

“I need a reason to visit my fiancée?” he asks sarcastically.

You can’t even muster up the energy to roll your eyes.  “I’m not in the mood, Kylo.”

He raises his thumbs to the buttons on the side of his helmet, and with a familiar hiss he removes his helmet.  He drops it to the ground with an unceremonious “thunk,” causing you to jump a bit in surprise. “Dramatic,” you grumble, as your eyes flicker to the eyes in the mask.

Kylo looks around while you attempt to win this glaring contest with his mask.  “It hasn’t changed much,” he remarks. “Your room. It’s almost exactly as I remember it.”

It’s like that day he followed you into the gardens.  You’re confused and, honestly, conflicted. What is he trying to do?  Is he actually nostalgic? Is he trying to trick you? It’s not like there’s a game to be won; he’s already won.  The First Order’s already won. What does he have to gain from harassing you?

“You hate me,” he states.

Your brow furrows at the declaration.  The way he says it sounds like a simple observation, but there’s a quiver in voice.  It’s barely there, but you hear it, maybe because you were so in tune to it all those years ago.  “I don’t know you,” you say.

He swallows, and you follow the slow movement of his neck with your eyes.  It’s like he’s got something caught in his throat, like he wants to say something but he can’t.  “You used to,” he says finally.

There’s a long silence between you as you look at him, really look at him for the first time.  The last time you saw him was seven years ago, before he and Master Luke returned to the Jedi Temple.  Maybe you should have seen it then, what you’re seeing now: a darkness underlying the conflict in his eyes.  There’s a stronger resolve today than there was back then, when he was still vulnerable and uncertain. He’d held your hands so tightly you didn’t think he’d ever let go.

You remove your covers and stand up to walk over to him.  He doesn’t move, but he does flinch when you bring a hand to his cheek, your fingers against his jawline.  Your eyes search his, seeking out some glimpse of the young padawan you loved as a girl. He looks straight at you, his breathing heavy, his shoulders hunched, his walls up.  If Ben Solo’s still in there, he’s buried deep underneath it all, kept well hidden.

Maybe you’ll find him again.

You pull your hand away, and his skin burns where your touch once was.  “I don’t hate you,” you repeat yourself, softer this time, and you mean it.

You see it, _something_ flickering in his eyes, a crack in his resolve.

Then he steps away from you, and the walls are back up, fortified.  He picks up his mask as he backs up towards your door, but his steps are heavy, like he wants to stay.  “I have to go,” he says, and he sounds far away.

Disappointing, you merely wring your fingers in front of you.  “Goodnight.”

He lingers in your doorway, sparing you a long look over his shoulder, before disappearing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg this chapter was soooo hard to churn out and i have no idea why. i'm sorry this took so long to get out, but i hope you guys enjoyed it! i finally go into the swing of things and i think i like where it's headed.
> 
> thanks for reading and commenting and liking and kudos'ing! i love reading your guys's comments so much, even if it doesn't seem like it because i'm awful at replying ha ha. but i appreciate ya'll so much!!


	5. 'til death do us part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You exchange your "I do"s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is how i imagined the [dress](https://68.media.tumblr.com/b06669eed9e85d5f3d1585391d2a43cd/tumblr_nxv0iaBurZ1r79qbvo1_1280.jpg) and the [hair](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b8/7d/55/b87d55c2f7b3df7de9d51e20e4167c67.jpg)

Senator Grace’s eyebrows are drawn together as she presses her lips together into a thin line.  From her expression alone, you know what her message is. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness,” she says.  “We haven’t been able to make any contact with them. Iain and I are doing all we can, but… There just hasn’t been enough time.”

You try to smile reassuringly, but you can feel the corners of your lips quivering.  “Don’t apologize. It isn’t over yet, Senator.”

She takes in a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back.  “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Be careful, Grace.”

“You as well.”

You turn off the holo-pad communicator, placing it back on your vanity with a heavy sigh.  You knew that this would be the outcome, that there was no way you’d be able to reach the Resistance in such a short amount of time, but a part of you refused to give up hope.  Part of you wanted to believe that General Organa and her troops would swoop in and save you from walking down the aisle.

 _“This isn’t the end,”_ you have to tell yourself.   _“This is not the end.”_

Aeri finishes your elaborate braid with small flowers, tucking the petals into your hair.  Once she’s done, she takes a step back to admire your reflection in the mirror. “You look beautiful,” she says.  Her voice is quiet and her eyes are glimmering, both with pride and sadness.

You take her hand, which is resting on your shoulder and squeeze it as you smile at her in the mirror.  “Thanks to you.”

She shakes her head, unable to vocalize what she’s feeling as she chokes on a sob.

Cora comes up on your other side, and she smiles fondly down at you as she pulls Aeri into a comforting half-hug.  “The ceremony is starting soon, My Lady.”

You take a deep breath before standing up.  “Alright.” You clasp your hands in front of you, trying to keep them from shaking.  “No running now.”

The gold of your dress trails behind you, gliding along the floor, the diamonds glinting in the sunlight.  Your footsteps grow heavier and heavier as you approach the doors to the ballroom, until finally you’re standing right in front of them.  Based on the glimpses of the guest list you’d seen, the room is completely full, with hundreds waiting for you to make your way through the doors, down the aisle.  On the other side, Kylo Ren is waiting for you to join him as his wife.

For a moment, all you can hear is your own breathing.  Every doubt, every fear you’ve experienced since this entire thing began drowns out all your thoughts.  You feel like you’re suffocating, like someone is holding you in the water, pushing you down, refusing to let you surface.

_They’ll all think I’m betraying them.  They’ll think I sold everything my mother worked for to save my own skin.  They’ll think I’ve forsaken them. They’ll hate me. They’ll hate me. They’ll hate me._

“ **(Y/N)**.”  Fi pulls you out from the whirlpool of your thoughts, wrapping her fingers tightly around yours.  She gives you a long, firm look, her brown eyes boring into yours. _We can do this_ , you can imagine her saying.   _We’re going to get through this.  You’re going to get through this. This isn’t the end._

You release the heavy breath you’ve been holding in your chest, and once you smile at her, the doors swing open.

Whispers and hushed voices follow you down the aisle, but you pay no mind to the unrecognizable faces and the strangers who are judging you.  Snoke is sitting at the front, off to the side, but still very present, while the minister and Kylo wait for you at the end of the aisle. He’s not even looking at you; his gaze is trained on the banners hanging from the walls, and he’s wearing his _stupid_ helmet.  For your _wedding_.   _“Unbelievable,”_ you think.

Once you stand across from him, the ceremony commences.  As the minister drones on, you fidget with your fingers, tugging at the jewelry and the fabric of your dress.

“You’re nervous,” Kylo says quietly.

You glare at him.  “Thank you for the observation.”

“I’d think you had come to terms with it.”

“It, meaning my being married to you?” you say.  “Not really something I can imagine just ‘coming to terms with.’”  He scoffs. “What, like you’ve come to terms with marrying me?”

He shrugs.  “It’s what the Supreme Leader wants.”

You roll your eyes.  “How romantic.”

“... Now I will have the groom and his bride turn towards each other, and take each other’s hands.”  Shakily, you extend your hands, and Kylo’s gloved fingers curl underneath yours. “In the presence of the Supreme Leader and all these witnesses, I bring Commander Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, and Her Highness **(Y/N)** , Queen of New Alderaan, together in holy matrimony.”

There is nothing holy about this.

There are no vows to be exchanged.  Whatever you repeat and whatever Kylo repeats from the minister is hollow.  Kylo slides a ring — simple, just a band, forged of some kind of black metal — onto your finger, you mutter your “I do”s, and that’s it.  No kiss (he keeps his dumb bucket on his head the _entire_ time), no cheering, no excited proclamation.  Just like that, you’re married.

Before you know it, you’re being ushered out of the ballroom and into the dining room so that the servants can transform it for the reception.  You’re thrust into a seat at a table at the head of the room, with Kylo on your right and Senators Arimarc and Brila on your left. Hux, Snoke, and various other First Order leaders on the other side of Kylo.  Fi stands behind you, as always, hand at her blaster, eyes trained on everyone — but especially Kylo.

Snoke says some words of greeting, or congratulation, or _whatever_ to all of the (his) guests.  You’re not really paying attention; the entire time, all you can do is stare at the ring around your finger.  It feels so heavy.

“You’re not eating.”  You don’t realize that you’ve been zoning out until Kylo’s voice cuts through your daze, and you realize that there’s food in front of you and everyone is almost done with the soup.

“Neither are you,” you say.  You can imagine him giving you a deadpan look behind his mask, and for the first time today you feel yourself cracking a smile.  “I don’t think I can eat.”

“You should eat,” he says.  “We have a long day ahead of us.”

It almost seems like a thoughtful sentiment.  “That goes for you, too, then,” you say, playfully kicking him under the table.

“I’m not hungry.”

“What, do you keep a secret stash of snacks in that helmet or something?”

He snorts (in amusement, you like to think).

You pick up your spoon and start to eat, no matter how much your stomach is churning and how little of an appetite you have.  He’s right — you have a long day ahead of you. After the meal, there will be meeting people and congregating and dancing and small talk, and you doubt you’ll have a minute to yourself.  People will have questions, you’ll need to talk to your senators at some point, and will Snoke want to discuss anything with you…?

“You’re thinking too much.”

You glare at him as you push back the creeping intrusiveness into your thoughts.  He learned a long time ago how much you hate when he gets into your head. “And you’re very blasé about this whole thing,” you retort.

Again, he shrugs, and you want to hit him.  If only you could be so indifferent about your _marriage_.

After the meal, as everyone’s transitioning from the dining room back to the ballroom, you meld into the crowd to catch up with Arimarc and Brila.  You relay Grace’s message as quickly and as inconspicuously as you can, though at this point it’s too late; you’re married, after all. Still, Arimarc smiles as he squeezes your hand.  “We musn’t lose faith, My Lady,” he says, and Brila bobs her head in agreement.

You return the smile, resisting the urge to hug them both.  “Thank you,” you mouth. In your peripheral vision, you can see General Hux watching you with a suspicious eye, but you merely turn the smile towards him, causing him to shift uncomfortably before slinking away.  You’ll need to be careful as Grace and Iain are out looking for the Resistance, of course, but it’s nice to know it doesn’t take much to get him to go away.

The wedding reception is a glorified meet-n-greet, where you meet the politicians who sold out to the First Order, most of the First Order’s commanding officers, and everyone in between.  Some of the stormtroopers even come up to introduce themselves, but you’re not sure what the point is because none of them take off their helmets so you have no idea what they look like. Still, you grin and bear it, because you have to.  If you can get through this, you promise yourself, you can have all the cakes you want.

“... quite the alliance, but I must admit, I was quite surprised,” rambles on some prince from Carsanza.  He introduced himself as fourteenth in line for the crown, which hardly seems like something to brag about.  “We were quite surprised, that is. For the First Order to come to New Alderaan of all places—”

He audibly yelps when your bored gaze shifts to a cutting glare, directed straight at him.  “Excuse me?”

He clears his throat uncomfortably, fiddling with his high-necked collar, as he averts his eyes to his champagne.  “Er, that, is, what I mean is— Surely, you must know… I mean, _New Alderaan_ is hardly the most sought after—”

“ _Excuse me_?” you hiss.

“What I mean i-is, t-that there are other planets with greater resources, b-but—”

“Let me tell you something about New Alderaan, you smarmy little cockroach—”  Before you can throw further insult (or your own champagne) into the prince’s face, Kylo reels you back by your shoulder, pulling you against him.  You stumble from the force, splashing the aforementioned champagne onto the prince anyway, but Kylo’s hand steadies you. “What are you—?”

“You should head back to your father, Prince Van,” Kylo says, “before you make an even greater fool of yourself.”

The prince splutters something that sounds vaguely like an apology before scuttering away, wiping fruitlessly at his stained tunic.  You’re sure you’ll be hearing from his father the king about slighting his beloved fourteenth in line, but honestly that just makes you regret not doing more to hurt him.

Irritated, you slap Kylo’s hand away from your shoulder and reel on him, glare as strong as ever.  “I didn’t need you to do that,” you say. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he says, and you blink in surprise, “which is exactly why I needed to do that.  The last thing I need is a complaint from the King of Carsanza, one of our biggest sponsors, because you tore his son a new hole.”

You roll your eyes.  “Oh, so you learned diplomacy while you were away betraying the Jedi Order?  Impressive.”

He grabs you by your elbow when you try to walk away.  “Where are you going?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“It’s our wedding day,” he says dryly.  “We should probably spend more than five minutes with each other.”

“Or what?” you say.  “People will think we didn’t marry for love, or something?”

Kylo takes in a deep breath, like it’s taking all he has to not throw a temper tantrum right here.  “You are absolutely _infuriating_ ,” he says, low and quiet, in a way that you think is supposed to be threatening.

You shrug out of his grasp, putting space between you.  “You’ve called me worse,” you say airily. You take a sip of your champagne before flashing him a sarcastic smile and disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

Three glasses of champagne, fifteen unwanted conversations, innumerous unwanted introductions, and only half a bite of cake later, you stumble out of the ballroom, sneaking onto the veranda.  Everyone is inside, thank the stars, and finally, for the first time all day, you are by yourself.

Sighing, you place your empty glass on a nearby table before leaning against the railing, the whole weight of your body collapsing against it.  What an exhausting day. To be honest, you haven’t really had time to process it. Being married. To Kylo Ren. Married. This morning you woke up like any other day, Queen of New Alderaan, but today you just walked down the aisle, repeated some words, and now…

You raise your hand up in front of you, shifting your fingers so that the moonlight reflects off the dark metal of your wedding band.  It doesn’t look quite right, sitting there around your finger. (You wonder if it was Snoke’s idea, a symbol of your loyalty to the First Order, rather than to Kylo himself.  You can hardly imagine Kylo going ring shopping, though the dark color is very much something he’d pick out.)

There’s a familiar prickle at the base of your skull, accompanied by a familiar voice.  “It was the Supreme Leader’s idea,” Kylo confirms. He stands next to you, arms folded across his chest, but you don’t bother to look at him.  You should have known they wouldn’t leave you alone for longer than a minute. “It was made from a kyber crystal.”

“Really.”  You drop your hand, leaning on the railing on both of your forearms.  “So the First Order just has spare kyber crystals laying around in case you all want some jewelry?”

He’s tired of your snark and sarcasm, you can tell, but really it’s his fault for coming up to you, and he should be expecting it by now.

The silence between you grows long and heavy, and the bubbliness in your chest from the champagne has run its course.  The ring on your finger weighs you down, making you hyper aware of his presence — looming, dark, heavy — beside you. Everything has changed, you realized.   _Everything_.

You close your eyes as a wave of despair washes over you.  You’ve been pushing it down all day, all week, ever since you first spoke to Snoke and Kylo.  The despair, the anger, the sadness over your loss of freedom — all of it washes over you at once, and you can feel your body physically collapsing in on itself.   _How could this have happened?  How could you have allowed this to happen?_

Kylo senses the shift in your mood, turning towards you as you bury your face in your hands.  “What do you want from me?” you whisper.

“What?”

“What do you _want_ from me?”  The anger bubbles up underneath the despair as you turn to face him, both fire and tears in your eyes.  Everything that you’ve been suppressing is coming to the surface, spilling over. “You’ve already taken _everything_ from me.  My planet, my resources, my autonomy.  I’m already your puppet! I never had a choice!  What do _you_ want from me?  Why are you here?  To rub it in my face?  To tell me I failed? I _know_ I failed, Kylo Ren, and I don’t need you to remind me of it.  Why can’t you just leave me alone?” You hiccup on the last word, your shoulders tense with a heavy sob, and you quickly wipe away at the angry hot tears that are coursing down your cheeks.

You turn your back to him, refusing to let him see you cry like this.  “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You’d meant for it to come out as biting, as a demand, but it’s soft and weak and your voice breaks.  You’ve been keeping it all hidden for too long.

He wants to say something.  It’s caught his throat, even though he doesn’t know what it is.  He takes a step towards you, and he realizes that he’s never seen you this vulnerable before.  In all those years of serving as your bodyguard, your friend, someone who loved you — he’s never seen you so utterly broken and defeated.

And in a moment of weakness, he feels guilty, and it’s been years since he’s felt anything akin to remorse.

Kylo swallows thickly.  “I…”

“ _Please_ ,” you say, choking on a sob.

It’s almost as though you physically barrelled him over.  He knows it’s foolish, that he shouldn’t care, that your tears are only a sign of your weakness and that’s better for him and Snoke and the First Order, but it’s like his instincts are drawn towards you.  To console you, hold you, comfort you.

When he doesn’t move, too overwhelmed and dumbstruck by the conflict raging in his own heart, you rush past him, bumping his shoulder and startling him out of his shock.  He spins around to watch you run back into the ballroom, brushing past the others without a second thought. Fortunately, everyone’s too drunk off champagne to pay any mind to the crying bride.

Kylo looks back at the space where you were standing, and he can perfectly visualize the expression on your face as you asked him what he wanted from you.  He had no reason to come out here. The whole deal has been sealed: you’re married. Everyone knows it’s a political alliance, that there are no feelings involved; there’s no need to put on an act.  He could have spent the whole night at Snoke’s side, and yet…

He can’t get rid of the image of the pure defeat in your eyes.  Today, you were the most beautiful he’d ever seen you, and yet he’d never seen your spirit so broken before.

He takes in a deep breath as he closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind.  There are more important things to worry about, he tells himself.

* * *

  _“Oh, thank goodness, Ben, there you are.”  Ben yelps at the sound of the Queen’s voice, practically jumping as he spins around to face her.  She quickly conceals her laughter, but he catches just enough of it to be embarrassed. “Please, you have to help me find_ **_(Y/N)_** _.  Queen Vivienne and the prince will be here any moment, and I haven’t seen her all morning.”_

 _“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I don’t know why you think I’d have better luck finding her,” Ben says.  Sure, he found you under the brush that_ one _time, but what are the chances you’ll be there again?  You’ve gotten pretty good at evading him_ and _Master Luke.  “You know her better than I do.”_

_Her eyebrows draw together in concern.  “Yes, but she also knows me well, so she knows exactly how to sneak away from me.  Please, Ben. I have to make some final arrangements for their arrival, and I don’t have the time to scour the palace.”_

And I do? _he thinks.  Instead, he gives her a little reassuring smile.  “I’ll do my best.”_

_“Thank you so much.”  She gives him a kiss on each cheek (that has his entire face turning bright red), before dashing away to find her head of staff._

_Ben sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair.  How did he get roped into this again? Master Luke told him this assignment would be an integral part of his Jedi training, but all he’s done is chase around some phantom princess.  What good is being in tune with the Force when it can’t even help him track down a fifteen-year-old girl?_

_He wanders around without really looking, peeking under every flower bush in the gardens, dipping into the mazes, wandering up and down the towers.  Unsurprisingly, he catches no glimpse of you. Surely by now the visiting queen and prince are here, and Queen Thea has given up on you making it to lunch.  Speaking of lunch, after a morning of running around, he’s starting to feel a little hungry._

_Resigned to having failed his first task of the day, Ben makes his way down to the kitchens, excited for whatever Chef Una has prepared.  When he opens the door, he finds you with your back to him, sitting on the kitchen island in a_ very _unprincess-like manner._

_“Seriously?” he says._

_You whip around, eyes as wide as saucers, mouth and hands full of cake, looking very, very guilty.  You quickly swallow the five bites of chocolate cake stuffed in your cheeks, a feat that he can’t help but be impressed by.  “Ben!” you squeak. “W-what are you doing here?”_

_“Well I_ was _looking for you, but I just came down here to get something to eat.”  He wanders over to where you’re sitting, leaning against the edge of the counter.  Before you can protest, he picks up a piece of your cake and shoves it into his mouth.  “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you, but the Queen’s looking for you.”_

_You cut off another piece from the cake, which Ben takes with his fingers.  When you deadpan, he grins. “I’ve had lunch with Queen Vivienne and Prince Rennek before.  She’s rude and he’s boring. An awful combination. I’d rather sit here and have Una feed me than have to entertain those two again.”_

_“Remember, I have no idea you’re here,” Una says, as she walks by with a sheet pan full of food.  “The Queen will have me thrown out if she knows I’m part of this.”_

_“She wouldn’t!” you say.  “She wouldn’t,” you repeat, looking Ben in the eyes.  “She loves Una.” You cut off another piece of cake, but this time divide it into two; Ben takes one, and you fork the other one into your mouth.  “Look, lunch should be over in an hour, and they’ll go home after. Queen Vivienne_ never _stays when she visits.”_

_“Why?”_

_You shrug._

_“Our sheets aren’t fancy enough for her.  She says it’s because she has sensitive skin, but really it’s because she’s a snob.”  You shift so that you can cut a slice from the fruit tart next to you, and slide it onto your plate.  You cut off a piece for Ben, then pluck off a starberry to pop into your mouth. “Hey.” You quickly put your fork in the piece as he grabs it.  “Please don’t tell my mom. Seriously. Not to be dramatic, but I’ll die if they drag me off. I would rather marry a wookie than Prince Rennek.”_

_“‘Not to be dramatic’?” he snorts.  You give him a long, hard look, and he relents with a sigh.  “Yeah, alright.” You grin smugly, showing off the top row of your teeth, and release the tart for him to take.  “Anyway, what about marrying Prince Rennek? You’re fifteen.”_

_“Clearly you have no idea how this princess stuff works.”_

_Ben rolls his eyes, and you laugh.  “Clearly.”_

_“It’s time to start thinking about marriage, so I’ve been meeting with sons of kings and queens and senators and diplomats.  Prince Rennek is by far the worst so far, but there’s a whole galaxy full of Prince Renneks, I’m sure.” You move again so that now your legs are dangling off the island, and you swing your feet back and forth as you cheerfully pick at the fruit tart._

_Ben wonders how one can talk about marriage and courting so casually.  Maybe it’s because he’s had zero experience with romance and doesn’t completely understand how political marriages work, but he feels like it’s something you should be taking a little more seriously.  (But, then again, like you said, you have no idea how this princess stuff works.) “So… you’re getting married soon, then?” he asks._

_“No, legally I can’t get married until I turn eighteen.  Mom doesn’t want me to get married until I’m twenty or twenty-one, though.  She was twenty-three when she married my father.”_

_“That’s a long time away to be looking for suitors now.”_

_“The council started making my mom meet with potential suitors when she was thirteen.  It’s just how these things work.”_

These things _, he thinks, as he watches you reach across plates of cakes, pies, and tarts to grab two pastries.  You say it so matter-of-factly, so casually. He can’t imagine what it’d be like to have this kind of thing, which seems so personal, determined for him.  Then again, he chose the path of the Jedi, and technically Jedi can’t get married anyway. “So you just meet with hundreds of different guys for the next five to ten years until you find one you like?”_

_“One my mom likes, the senators like, the council likes.  Hopefully I like him, too.”_

_Ben looks confused, and also a little concerned.  You can’t help but think the little crinkle of his nose is cute.  “You don’t have to like him?”_

_“Well, Mom says she wants me to marry for love, of course.  She’s my mom, she has to say that.” As you chomp on the orange-filled pastry, you hand him the one that’s covered in frosting and oozing with chocolate.  “She married my father because it was good for New Alderaan. They fell in love, though.”_

_“After they got married.”_

_“After they got married,” you confirm._

_“That’s romantic,” he says sarcastically.  You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, a small, curious smile tugging at your lips.  He leans back away from you, rubbing his neck self-consciously. Why are you looking at him like that?  “What?”_

_“Are you a romantic, Ben Solo?” you tease him.  “Do you believe in fairytale endings and meeting ‘the one’ and soulmates and all that?”  His blush betrays him, creeping all the way up his neck to his ears and nose and cheeks. “Oh my_ God _, that is adorable.”_

_He glowers at you.  “Don’t patronize me.”_

_“I’m not.  I’m not! Seriously, I’m just surprised.  That’s sweet, Ben.” Your smile is kind and earnest, and it makes his heart ache in a way that he doesn’t understand.  “Of course, I’d love to marry for love. I wish I didn’t have to think about things like alliances and resources and what’s best for my planet.  I think it’d be nice to fall in love under normal circumstances and get married and travel and have kids or adopt a couple banthas.” He snickers.  “But I also know it’s not realistic. Not for me, anyway.”_

_Ben briefly thinks about his mother, a princess and a diplomat, who married a man who used to be a smuggler.  He later became a Rebellion general and a venerated hero, but nonetheless he was a smuggler, someone well below his mother.  They married for love. Maybe it would be possible for you, too._

_“Okay, seriously,_ **_(Y/N)_ ** _, you can’t keep doing this—”  Fi comes to an abrupt stop when she notices that you aren’t alone.  She frowns, narrowing her eyes at Ben, and he shifts uncomfortably on his feet.  “Weren’t you supposed to be looking for her?” she asks him. “Not helping her?”_

_You slide off the counter, dropping onto your feet right next to Ben.  “Oh, don’t blame him,” you say. “I bribed him with cakes.”_

_She scoffs.  “Nice. Anyway, lunch is over and your mother is furious.”_

_“She’s always furious.”_

_“So furious I think she’s actually going to launch you from the west tower this time.  Apparently Queen Vivienne felt_ very _slighted.”_

_“Our palace color scheme slights her,” you mutter to Ben.  “Please don’t tell her I’m in here, Fi.”_

_“Didn’t have to.  She’s coming this way now.  Thought I should warn you.”_

_You glare at her, but Fi just grins innocently.  “Thanks,” you say sarcastically. You turn to Ben, and you grab his wrist with such suddenness that he can’t help but yelp and drop his pastry.  “We gotta get out of here.”_

_“‘We’?” he and Fi chorus, his voice sounding much higher than hers._

_“I don’t have time for questions.”  Ben can only allow himself to be dragged out of the kitchens by you, while Fi watches with mild amusement.  Better you drag him than her into this mess._

_You don’t stop until you’re deep in the recesses of the library.  You both pant heavily, trying to catch your breaths, but Ben can’t stop looking at your smile as you try to suppress your laughter.  “Something tells me I’m gonna be in a lot of trouble because of you,” he says, starstruck._

_Your eyes practically sparkle.  “Only if you’re lucky.”_

* * *

 It’s been hours since the reception ended, and everyone has returned to their quarters, except for the servants who are cleaning up the last of the mess.  After she helped you undress, you dismissed Aeri for the night, and you had Fi take care of Cora. She’d been concerned of course, but you need to be by yourself, and Cora is under a lot of stress and needs her support more anyway.  All you want is to take a bath and sleep.

Kylo did not chase after you when you made your exit, and neither did anyone else.  Fi found you in your room an hour later, sobbing into your pillow, and immediately called for Aeri.  You’ve been in the bath since, staring at the flowers floating across the surface, actively trying to clear your mind.

You sigh as you pull your hands from the lavender-scented water, wrinkling your nose at how pruny your fingers are.   _Time to get out, I guess_ , you think dismally.

Carefully, you stand up and step out of the tub, reaching for your robe.  You tie the belt around your waist as you walk into your room. Before you can make it to your bed, there’s a knock at the door.

You freeze.  You hope it’s not Kylo.  Of course it’s Kylo. He’s your _husband_ now.  You’re supposed to share a room and sleep together and—

You blanche.

It’s your wedding night.  Of course.

_No, no, no, no, no…  I’m not ready for this.  No._

He’s out of his damn mind if he thinks anything is going to happen.  You’re just going to have to be assertive. You married him, you were forced into this alliance — surely you can least retain the autonomy of your _body_.

“Out of his damn mind,” you grumble to yourself, as you make your way towards the door.  But what if he doesn’t take “no” for an answer? No, Ben would never disrespect you like that.   _Well, Ben wouldn’t.  Kylo on the other hand…_

Steeling yourself, you open the door, mouth already open with a rejection, but no one’s there.  Brow furrowing in confusion, you open the door a little wider. There’s no Kylo Ren, but there is a plate of chocolate cake.   _Chocolate cake?_

You pick the plate off the ground and look around, hoping to spot whoever left you the treat, but no avail.  There’s no sight or sound of another person around. You retreat into your room, closing the door.

As you look down at the slice of cake, you can’t help but smile.  You’re not sure who left it, but you’re grateful.

* * *

Hux finds Kylo in the hallway, just a couple doors away from the Queen’s room.  It looks like he’s walking away from it, though. Kylo jumps a little when he notices Hux, like he’s been caught in the act.  Hux raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought you’d be staying with your new bride tonight,” Hux says.

Kylo bumps his shoulder, causing him to stagger backwards, and Hux curses him inwardly.  “You never struck me as a romantic, General,” is all Kylo says before he disappears into his own room for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's probably obvious by now but the flashbacks aren't in any particular order
> 
> why does it take me so long to finish these chapters?? i get distracted every time i open the word document it's awful i'm so sorry thank you for stickin with me and my slow ass as i write this
> 
> ANYWAY thank you you sweet wonderful people for commenting and kudos-ing and liking. i appreciate it so, so, so much. i especially love hearing your thoughts about each chapter! you keep me writing you precious beebs :)


	6. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo plans your honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my only excuse is that i stopped writing for like six months and also motivation/inspiration is fleeting, ha ha. thank you to everyone who has read and commented and kudos'd -- your support means everything to me and i appreciate it so much. i hope this chapter was worth waiting for!
> 
> also -- merry chrysler and happy holidays!!

When you wake up, your bed is cold and your hand feels heavy.  As your eyelids flutter open, you slowly blink away the haziness; the first thing that comes into focus is your wedding band.   _So that it’s it,_ you think, momentarily captivated by the dark crystal, _I’m married._

Strange.  You don’t feel much different from yesterday, or the day before, or the week before.  You thought being someone’s wife would change some inherent part of you, but you’re still just… you.  Maybe it’s the absence of your husband, or the fact that you’re waking up in your own bed in your own room in your own palace.  Were it not for the ring around your finger, this could just be any other morning.

“Ah, you’re awake.”  You roll over from your stomach onto your back, flashing a sleepy smile at Aeri, who giggles behind her hand.  “Cora told me to let you sleep in, but now that I see you’re up…”

You drag the covers over your head, ducking into your homemade cocoon.

It only takes her half a second to yank them out of your grasp, exposing your body to the brisk morning air.  “Nice try, My Lady,” she says. “We need to get you ready. Breakfast starts in an hour.”

Sighing dramatically, you flail your limbs wide, stretching across your large bed; that doesn’t stop Aeri from grabbing you around the ankles and all but dragging you off the mattress.  “I don’t need breakfast,” you whine. “I’m still full from yesterday.”

Aeri briefly disappears into your closet before emerging with a honey-colored dress.  “Were you even able to eat anything yesterday? I hear married couples don’t actually get much food on their wedding day.”  Once you step out of your nightgown, she helps you into the dress, which has a plunging neckline and is decorated with gold roses.  She adjusts your sleeves, then forces you into the chair so she can start your hair and makeup.

“Someone brought by a piece of cake for me last night,” you say.  The way her eyebrows raise in surprise tells you it wasn’t her. “Chocolate cake.”

“Chocolate cake?” she echoes.  “Was there even chocolate cake during the meal or at the reception?”

You blink.  Now that you think about it…  “No, I don’t think so. It was just vanilla, wasn’t it?”  Whoever brought it to you must have gone down to the kitchens and gone looking for it.  Cora was busy all night making sure everything went perfectly, and you made sure Fi was by her side.  Who could it have been, then?

“Well, it was very sweet of whoever brought it to you,” Aeri says.

“Yes,” you say, “very sweet.”  You start to zone out as she works on your hair, your mind drifting through memories of sharing chocolate cake in the kitchens and behind bookshelves in the library with Ben.  He used to bring you cake when you were upset with him, you remember, usually as a peace offering and apology. You doubt Kylo even remembers where the kitchens are, though, and if he did, he hardly seems like someone who apologizes.

Once you’re finished getting ready, you head to the dining room.  On the way over, you see servants running to and fro, most of them taking care of errands for your guests, who are already walking around the palace.  You barely recognize any of them, though they stop to greet and congratulate you. You smile and bear it, even though you know as soon as you turn your back to them they’ll have something to snide say about either you or your palace or New Alderaan.  You can’t wait until they leave.

It’s a full table for breakfast, though you’re hardly surprised.  There are kings and queens and diplomats and First Order high command.  Fortunately, Senators Brila and Arimarc are beside you, but in a room full of the most important and highest-paying First Order sympathizers, you can’t help but feel small.  Your husband and Snoke are nowhere to be seen, though you can’t say you mourn their absence.

“... was such a lovely ceremony, Your Highness!”  You look up from your (mostly untouched) plate to find everyone looking in your direction.  The one addressing you is close to you, fairly young, with bright eyes and a beautiful gown.  Her mother, who wears an elaborate crown as a sign of her royalty (of what planet, you have no idea), nudges her for speaking out loud.

Despite the situation, you can’t help but smile.  It reminds you a bit of you and your mother. “Thank you,” you say.  “It was very well put together, wasn’t it?”

The queen seems to relax from your kind response, but the princess pays her no mind.  Instead, she nods her head enthusiastically and clasps her hands together. “I can only hope my wedding is half as beautiful.”

“I’ll let you borrow Cora when it comes time for that,” you joke.  “She organized everything.”

She sighs a little breathlessly, and her starry eyes tell you she’s been dreaming of her wedding for a while now.  “I hope they find me a good match, as well.”

You almost snort at “as well.”

You make small talk with Princess Tanaris for the rest of breakfast, trying your best not to say anything (outright) disrespectful about Kylo.  Part of it is because you don’t want any of these First Order allies reporting back to Snoke, while the other part is just so afraid of shattering the princess’s perception of your marriage.  You don’t want her to think she’ll be thrown into a loveless marriage like you.

Towards the end of the meal, while you’re working on your second breakfast cake (you notice some of the princes giving you a strange look when the chef brings you out another), Hux comes up to your side.  “Ren would like to see you in his quarters,” he whispers into your ear.

“And he sent you to tell me this,” you say.

Hux looks so annoyed you can’t help but laugh.

“Alright, since you went through the trouble.”  You quietly dismiss yourself from the table, giving Princess Tanaris a little pat on the shoulder on the way out, and exchange a quick look with Brila and Arimarc.  You have no idea what Kylo wants to talk to you about, but you hope it doesn’t have to do with you leaving him on the veranda and ending your reception a sobbing mess.

Kylo is staying in the room right next to yours.  It’s the same room he stayed in when he and Master Luke were stationed in New Alderaan.  You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t intentional; you were really hoping he’d notice and it would torment him, at least a little bit.

Just as you approach, the door swings open, and Snoke exits.  He startles you, perhaps because this is the closest you’ve been to him, perhaps because he flashes you a slight, twisted grin that makes your hair stand on end.  “Your Highness,” he greets you briefly.

You barely manage a weak, “Supreme Leader,” as he strides past you.  Your eyes follow his form until he disappears down the hallway, and only then do you release the breath you’ve been holding.  You can tell that he was stronger when he was younger, that battle and the years have taken their toll on his body, but the aura he emits is still one of pure power.  It’s terrifying, you think.

After gathering your bearings, you announce yourself with a couple quiet knocks on the door before stepping inside the room.  Kylo is standing by the window, his back to you. (You notice that he isn’t wearing his mask.) Other than a slight hitch of his shoulders, he doesn’t acknowledge your presence.

 _You’re the one who asked me to come here_ , you think, attempting to glare a hole through the back of his head.  “Did you need something, Commander Ren?” you ask.

“Commander Ren?” he echoes.  He turns to you slightly, raising an eyebrow.  “We’re married now. There’s no need to be so formal.”

You are filled with the sudden, but very familiar desire to slap him.  “Did you call me here for a reason, or are you just training General Hux to be a carrier pigeon?”

He laughs through his nose, a short (but amused) exhale.  “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Excuse me?”

He faces you fully now, so that he can see the confusion and dawning anger in your expression.  “We leave tomorrow morning,” he repeats himself. “The Supreme Leader is sending me on a mission to Abhean.”

“I fail to see why the ‘we’ is necessary.”

This time when he exhales, it’s with irritation.  “Based on research and discussions we’ve had with other diplomats, New Alderaan has a friendly relationship with Abhean.  Their people seem to hold you in high regard.”

So you’re also being used a pawn for your alliances.  How quaint. “And what are we going there for?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis.”

“If you’re going to be using me, I’m going to insist that I need to know,” you say.

Kylo glares at you, but you return it with an equal amount of strength, refusing to back down.  Just because you’re a hostage doesn’t mean you have to be ignorant of your surroundings and circumstances — not if you can help it.

He relents with a huff.  “I’m searching for someone.  Who has something we’ve been searching for.”

You roll your eyes.  “Vague.”

“I wouldn’t bring you if I didn’t think it was necessary,” he says through gritted teeth.  “If the _Supreme Leader_ didn’t think it was necessary.”  Ah, so that’s why Snoke was in here earlier.  “This is not a request.”

“Oh yes, I know very well that the First Order doesn’t make requests,” you say dryly.

His hands clench into fists at his sides, like he has to physically hold himself back from rebuking you.  Your heart leaps a little in fear, but you keep your foundation strong and tilt your chin in defiance. “We leave in the morning,” he says again, his words sounding very strained.  “Pack lightly.”

He wants those to be the final words, but you refuse to let him have it.  This may not be a request, but you’re not going to allow yourself to become the compliant prisoner.  “And how long will we be gone for?”

“However long it takes to find him.”

“Who’s him?”

At this point your goal is to annoy him as much as possible, and you seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.  Kylo is taking very slow, steady breaths, and he folds his arms across his chest. You hope he knows that if he’s forcing you to leave your planet, he’s going to have to deal with this every day.  “I already told you,” he says. “It’s a—”

“Need-to-know basis,” you cut him off, rolling your eyes.

He grits his teeth.

You relent with a shrug of your shoulders, though you can’t fully conceal the smug smile tugging at your lips.  “Very well. Will Fi come with me?”

“No,” he says, without blinking.

Your smile immediately drops into a frown.  You don’t go anywhere without Fi — especially not outside of New Alderaan.  Other than being your closest friend and confidant, more practically, she’s your _personal bodyguard_.  You don’t doubt you can defend yourself when it comes down to it, but you’re not so arrogant to think that a queen should go without protection.  “Why not? It’s not as though we’re going undercover. You’ll hardly make use of our alliance if that’s the case.”

“We’re going on a mission, Your Highness.”  He says your title so bitingly that you almost flinch.  “You don’t need your royal entourage.”

“I’m not asking for an _entourage_ , Commander,” you snap back.  “Just my bodyguard. I don’t think I’m asking for much.”

“You don’t _need_ a bodyguard.”

“Is that so?”

“You’ll be with _me_.”  He is so offended by your scoff that he is visibly taken aback.  Once he gathers his bearings, he walks right up to you, so that you’re forced to crane your neck back to look at him.  “It’s already been decided,” he says, his voice low. “You and I will travel to Abhean tomorrow morning, and we will not return until we retrieve the information we need.  You and I, alone.”

He’s breathing heavily, and his eyes flicker as he struggles to hold your hard gaze.  He’s looking down at you (he’s always had one up on you because of his sheer size), but you have the upper hand; his shoulders are hunched, his fists are shaking at his sides, he can barely maintain eye contact.  To everyone else in the galaxy, Kylo Ren is someone to fear, the mysterious commander of the First Order, powerful and ruthless and dangerous, but you’ve seen him without his mask. You know he’s not as strong as he wants everyone to think he is.

“If you say so.”  His brow briefly furrows, an indication of surprise at your compliance.  You smile enigmatically in response. He’s so easy to read, even after all these years, but you’re not going to let him get an accurate reading on you.  You’re no longer the starry-eyed princess from his past. “I suppose I better get packing, then. Unless there’s anything else you would like to discuss with me?”

There are a million things he wants to say.  You roll onto the balls of your feet, leaning towards him, daring him to say just one of them.  You don’t know why you’re feeling so gutsy, why you want to push him so hard. Maybe it’s because, after everything that’s happened, you finally feel like you have some control.  Part of you wants to see him lose control, to see another crack in the facade, to have him throw a tantrum in front of you. Anything to show that he isn’t some android controlled by Snoke.

Kylo takes a step back away from you, putting space between you; your shoulders fall in disappointment.  “No,” he says, his throat tight. “Nothing more, Your Highness.” He’s holding back, trying to get himself back under control.

“Oh, there’s no need to be so formal,” (you casually lean into the space he created between you, curling your fingers around his arm; he jumps at the contact, and you smile), “my dear, sweet husband.  I so look forward to having you as my bodyguard again.”

He holds his breath, his pupils blown wide as he frantically searches your face for some kind of answer.  His skin prickles underneath your touch, despite the material barrier of his clothing.

You have no explanation to give him though, just a smile, and give his arm a slight squeeze before pulling away.  “I suppose I better get packing, then.”

Kylo watches as you leave, dumbstruck, his head buzzing and his chest on fire.

He’s really starting to question what he’s agreed to.

 

* * *

 

_This is the first time you’re being allowed into the city on your own.  Usually you’re accompanied by your mother and the senators, plus a few bodyguards.  Naturally, you’re excited; every time you go out, it’s only for a short period of time, and you don’t get to see very much.  You know it’s a matter of safety, but how are you ever supposed to rule if you don’t see how your people live?_

_You’re grateful that your mother isn’t sending an entire battalion with you, though she had made the threat shortly before you exited through the palace gates.  “If you even_ think _about running away, I’ll have you locked up for the next orbital rotation,” she’d said, all the while pinching your ear._

_“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” Ben assured her.  “I’ll take good care of her.”_

_She only believed him because it never got back to her that you’ve been pulling him into all of your shenanigans, but, again, you’re grateful because you’d rather have Ben the Padawan than the entire royal guard._

_“So this is your first time really seeing the city for yourself,” Ben says._

_You bob your head in affirmation.  “Mom goes pretty often. She says it’s important to talk with the people and let them know she cares and she’s listening.  I’ve got to go a couple of times, but it’s a small perimeter, and I’ve never really been able to_ see _anything, you know?  They say it’s dangerous, but…”_

_“They?”_

_“The senators.  The council.” You shrug.  “They don’t like that Mom comes down as often as she does.  They say she’s putting herself in danger and at risk, that anyone could attack.  She says that’s not a good enough reason to stay cooped up in the palace, though.”_

_“Do you agree with her?”_

_“Of course!” you huff.  “How can anyone be an effective ruler if they don’t know the people?  That’s how riots and rebellions happen. No one wants to live under a tyrant.”_

_“But if the tyrant keeps an iron grip on the people,” he counters, “and quells the riots and rebellions…  Then people will be subservient.”_

_“Because of fear,” you say, your brow furrowing.  Even if you’re only fifteen, your mother has already warned you of that type of thinking.  “That’s how the Empire ruled.”_

_“Couldn’t it be dangerous to let the people get too close to you, though?” he asks.  “Then they think of you as one of them rather than as their queen.” You know he’s just playing devil’s advocate, but there’s something behind his words (genuine curiosity, inquisitiveness) that concerns you._

_“Well, I_ am _one of them, aren’t I?” you say.  “I was born on New Alderaan, have lived on New Alderaan my entire life.  I’m just as New Alderaanian as they are; I just happened to be born into royalty.  Their concerns are my concerns, and vice-versa.” Ben looks at you in a way that you can only describe as with admiration, and you feel your cheeks heat up.  “A-anyway, I’ve always wanted to go through the marketplace. It’s busiest during these days. All the vendors are out, people are shopping, there’s so much to see…  That’s what Fi tells me, anyway.”_

_It never really occurred to Ben how sheltered the life of a princess could be.  You’re fifteen years old and you’ve barely seen beyond the walls of your palace.  It’s endearing, the way you look around at your people and your culture with such genuine interest and intrigue, but it’s also a little sad.  He’s seen so much of the galaxy, thanks of course to his upbringing and his family, and he can’t even imagine what it would be like to have one’s experiences so restricted._

_“Oh!”  He jumps a little at your sound of excitement.  “This is the fruit stand that Una likes so much!”  You scuttle over to the vendor, an elderly lasat with branching crows’ feet around her bright green eyes, and ripe starfruit in her callused hands._

_“Your Highness!” she greets you, nearly dropping the fruit in surprise.  “I wasn’t expecting— Oh, this is such a surprise! If I knew you were coming, I would have kept the best—”_

_“No, no, no, please.  Please, it’s fine, please—”  You can’t help but flush as she scurries around the stand, picking and poking and prodding at her fruit, trying to find the biggest and prettiest fruit to put into a basket for you.  Everyone walking by is starting to steal glances and murmur around you, and try as you might it is impossible to shrink into the scarf wrapped around your head. So much for keeping a low profile._

_Ben observes the way you try to make yourself smaller with some mild amusement, only because you’re already so small physically (at least, in comparison to him).  You may not have your mother’s presence (yet), but anyone can tell you’re cut from a different cloth, by the way you carry yourself, the way you speak. You may leave the jewels and delicate gowns at home, but you’re royalty to your core; they’d have to be blind not to see it._

_He’s been around enough kings and queens and emperors to know that not all of them (rather, not many of them) are well-received by the people.  He’s seen one person surrounded by enough security detail to fill an entire room, just to get from one building to another. He’s seen riots break out when an unpopular empress was recognized by the crowd._

_Ben has noticed the eyes that have followed you since you left the palace, has noticed the soft smiles and nods and waves and the way the children whisper excitedly as they run past you.  You and your mother — the people really love you._ Really _love you._

_“I know how much your mother loves dragonfruit.”  The vendor shoves a giant basket, filled with the most beautiful fruit Ben has ever seen, into his arms, then hands you a smaller one with just dragonfruit.  “This one’s on me, Princess,” she says, winking. “And tell Una to make you that special cake, or else she isn’t getting anymore apple berries from me.”_

_You thank her repeatedly, trying to pay but constantly being denied; it’s only when the vendor turns around to help another customer that you sneak the money (plus a hefty tip, he notices) under a horned melon and quickly usher him away before she realizes._

_He watches as you giggle, all caution thrown to the wind as your scarf falls and hangs around your neck, looking so free and happy.  He’s not sure why his cheeks feel so hot, but he quickly diverts his eyes._

 

* * *

 

Aeri helps you pack, while Fi paces back and forth, shouting expletives and throwing pillows and all but threatening to shoot a barrage through the wall separating your room and the Commander’s.  “ **(Y/N)** ,” Fi says, as you shake your head in response to one of the dresses Aeri pulls out, “you cannot agree to this.  You can’t!”

“I don’t think I really have a choice in the matter.”  You take a seat on your bed and pull your boots on over your thick wool socks.  “I’m not happy about this, either, Fi.”

“I am your _bodyguard_.  I’m not really doing my job if I’m not there to _guard_ your _body_.”

Even if the situation isn’t funny, you can’t help but chortle.  “You’re being dramatic. I’ll be fine _—_ ”

“You’re going to be _alone_ in the Mid Rim with _Kylo Ren_ , I wouldn’t call that fine,” she hisses.

You give her a pointed look, which she deflects with a hard glare.  “We do well with the people of Abhean. We’ve had a strong alliance with them since my mother was queen.”

“And now you’ll be bringing the Commander of the First Order there.  How well do you think they’re gonna receive that?”

You know she’s making a valid point, because you’ve thought of every possibility and scenario since Kylo broke the news to you, and to be honest you’re still very concerned _—_ but you don’t want her to know that.  You don’t want her or anyone else to worry about you; you need them to be alert and attentive, to hold down the fort here while you’re doing God-knows-what on Abhean.  “I’ll just have to deal with that when it comes,” you say.

Your answer does little (if anything) to ease her concerns.  “ **(Y/N)** _—_ ”

“Fi.”  Her back straightens at the finality in your tone.  “Please. I need you to trust me.”

She looks like she wants to say something else, but Fi presses her lips together, withholding what you know are objections, and she nods.  Aeri’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you as she gauges the tension.

The weariness is starting to sit heavy on your shoulders.  It was one thing to have New Alderaan invaded by the First Order, but you at least thought you’d be able to see what was going on.  Now that you’re being shipped off, you have no idea what’s going to happen. Who’s going to rule in your stead? You’ve already spoken to Arimarc and Brila, but you can imagine the Order’s leaders (ie., Snoke) trying to get their grimy hands all over your throne.

“I need you here to protect the senators, especially if Grace and Iain come home before I do,” you say.  You pull your long gloves up over your biceps, then Aeri helps you slip on your sleeveless duster. “Protect them, ensure that they’re sitting in on meetings, that the Order isn’t completely booting us out.  Make sure the servants and the people feel safe.” You can only hope that they don’t think you’re running away or forsaking them. “I’ll have my holopad with me, but I don’t know how regularly we’ll be able to stay in touch.”

Fi looks even _more_ worried now.  “And if you’re in danger—”

“I’ll just have to be very careful to not put myself in danger.”

You laugh when she scoffs.  “Do you even know how to do that?”

Before you can retort, Kylo walks into your room without any kind of warning or announcement, thoroughly startling Aeri and putting Fi on edge.  “We’re leaving,” he says.

You glance over at Aeri, who is so terrified that she’s hiding behind Fi.  “Can’t you knock?” you ask him, deadpanning.

He doesn’t even deign you with an answer, just stands there with his arms folded across his chest.

 _Annoying,_ you think.  “Fine.” You zip up the bag that Aeri had so meticulously packed for you, then sling it over your shoulder.  You walk over to Aeri, pulling her into a tight, comforting hug, and you take Fi’s hand. You can feel Kylo’s eyes boring into the back of your head, but you don’t care — he will not take this away from you.  You look her in the eyes, holding her gaze, and you squeeze her hand. She nods her head in understanding, and as you step away from them, she wraps a protective arm around Aeri’s quivering shoulders. You turn towards Kylo, giving him an appraising look before walking past him and saying, “Well?”

Kylo huffs as he follows, though it only takes two strides for him to catch up to you.  Damn his long legs. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“The hangar, obviously.”  Considering how often the two of you spent hiding in the hangar, with Ben promising to fly you around the galaxy and you pretending to know anything about ships, you’re annoyed that he would even ask that.  “I’m assuming we’ll be taking one of your ships.”

“Obviously,” he quips back.  You snort. “What, no more goodbyes?”

“I’ve said all the goodbyes I need to.”

The double doors leading to the hangar open, and while Kylo steps through, you can’t help but pause.  You glance over your shoulder, where you can see your servants running back and forth, dignitaries and royalty strolling about casually, First Order high command strutting around flanked by Stormtroopers.  This isn’t goodbye, you have to tell yourself. You’re going to come back. _You’re going to come back_.

Kylo has stopped as well, and despite the guise of his mask you know that he’s watching you closely.  He’s waiting for any sign of weakness to use against you, but you’re not going to give him any sort of ammunition.

An enigmatic smile flutters across your lips as you step towards smaller aircraft that you are certain is Kylo’s.  (An all black ship — so predictable.) “Ready to go, Commander?”

He stalls, like he isn’t quite sure how to react or answer, and that’s enough to bring you a bit of satisfaction.  He sees the upward quirk of your lips, which _infuriates_ him.  How is it that you manage to get under his skin so easily without having to say or do anything?

His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to keep himself calm, to not respond to your challenge.  (There will be many challenges to deal with — with you, specifically — he’s sure.) Kylo exhales heavily through his nose as he brushes past you, into the ship.  “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ef/c9/b5/efc9b516264f1c868c0ec76010f501dd.jpg) is the dress mentioned at the beginning of the chapter


End file.
